The Raven Does Not Forget, Does Not Forgive
by blackestnight10
Summary: CH. 9 UP. She wasn't a Dwarf. Or an Elf. Or even of Man. She was a myth that few could remember. But she was very real. She was the raven that did not forget or forgive and she did not kneel. She was the enigma that the King-in-Exile suffered, if but for a time. Thorin/OC Based on both film and book. Bound to be some angst. Maybe other pairings. Readers will help shape story!
1. She Was Myth

**So what is this? I think the..3****rd**** rewrite? Yup. Oh well, upside of all this is…I totally get to write fanfiction for a freaking uni class! In fact, the whole freaking class has to write fanfiction! Ha! **

**I already have a few of the next chapters written, so bit by bit I'll get those posted as well for you guys to read. Thanks to all who have already begun reading this story, hope you enjoy this new version. And welcome to all new readers! **

**As of right now, I don't know if I'm going to keep things canon, as far as the ending is concerned, or do things my own way, but I'll certainly take all your thoughts into consideration (: **

Indeed there was a cave nearby and the Dwarves were quick to search through it. There were things of little value and things of great value to be found. Bilbo stared on as the Dwarves buried chests of treasures, proclaiming they'd be coming back for them later. The cave was rather stuffy, dark and dank. Not caring to spend a moment longer in its walls, Bilbo returned to the fresh air. The others remained inside. It was a short time later when he could hear Thorin ordering the others to keep moving. He then saw him coming back out under the sun and trees, carrying a sheathed sword. Gandalf as well carried a sword. As the wizard approached the hobbit, he revealed a small sword. A dagger; though, in Bilbo's hands it appeared to be a sword. He studied the markings on the blade as the company began gathering their things, ready to continue on.

There was a great cry from within the cave and all eyes turned quickly to its entrance. It went unnoticed that one of their company was missing. As the Dwarves, wizard, and hobbit rushed into the cave they searched for the source of the cry. There was a shout for help and all recognized the voice.

"Ori!" many called out. "Ori, where are you?"

Fili and Kili were the firsts to discover him. The poor Dwarf had fallen to the ground, crawling back on all fours as he fought to tear his eyes from the sight before him. All stopped as they approached a sharp corner in the cave in which a great shape protruded.

Ori began, stammering, that he had only wanted to see what was inside, thinking it to be treasure. "It gave way, Gandalf!" he said, looking up to the grey wizard as he made his way through the group. "Look! Look what is inside!" His eyes fell back upon the strange object.

Thorin stepped forward, following after Gandalf, as Ori was finally helped up. But Ori remained in his spot once standing, his face full of fear and worry. Bilbo, ever growing unable to fight the interest within himself, pushed his way to the front so that he may get a better look at what had scared Ori so. He saw there, reaching out from the wall of the cave, what appeared to be an old wooden boat. But it was fully enclosed, bars of iron wrapped all around, covered in a script and design he had never seen before and which looked nothing alike to any that he knew. Resting on the ground was a large chunk from the side, its inner wall blackened. Bilbo looked over to Ori, seeing that he cradled a hand, a trickle of blood coming from it. Still, he could not understand why the others stared so at this peculiar boat. Thorin stood closest to the opening, his brow furrowed. The Dwarf looked to Gandalf for answers. But the wizard had none for him, not at that moment. He had seen what was held within and dared not approach any closer.

Bilbo clenched his fists for strength and came to stand behind Thorin, to see inside this strange container. He then understood the hush that had fallen over the company. Little could be seen of the inside, it covered in shadows, but there was no mistaking what Bilbo saw. Draped in dark fabrics and aged leather he could see the bend of an elbow, an arm resting upon a chest, a hand gripping tightly at a rusted sword.

"Gandalf," Thorin spoke lowly, "what is this?" He looked up to the wizard, but Gandalf only stared on in worry and wonder, unbelieving.

"Is it…" Bilbo began to say, swallowing deeply as he, too, continued to stare. What…who was this being? And why did Gandalf not speak? "Is he dead?"

"No."

The group was rattled from their watch, backs turning with haste to this…_coffin_. Many reached for their weapons, the strength now returned to them. They looked to the stranger that stood at the entrance of the cave. He held a longsword in one hand, its tip dug into the dirt as he leaned against it with defeat. His hair was curled and close to his head, a rich brown hue. He looked young, yet there were creases on his face and his eyes appeared a faded grey. His dressing was queer; he wore dark colors, a long and weathered sleeveless tunic over clothes many would have mistaken for that of a Ranger. His voice was foreign, a tone akin, if anything, to the earth itself. He looked past the Dwarves, to the object which had been disturbed. His eyes traveled to Gandalf and he saw there that the wizard knew what he looked upon, though even the wizard questioned his sight.

"She isn't dead," the stranger spoke. "She sleeps." He dropped his sword from his hand, advancing on the group with slow, tired steps. Still, the others stood at the ready, only to fall back when they saw that Gandalf looked upon this man and did not see him as a threat. He approached the boat and looked within, stretching a hand out to skim over the splintered wood. He looked down at his feet, to the piece that was broken, before turning to look over those that surrounded him. "She will be waking now. Soon. I must prepare."

He began sturdily tearing at the wooden boat, as if it was merely fabric, dropping the piece at his feet, leaving behind gnarled and twisted iron. At last he reached in, grunting as he pulled the form of a small woman out and into his arms. The stranger looked over those gathered once more and then carried the woman out from the cave, stopping at its mouth to retrieve his sword. He continued on into the forest. He would take her to the remains of the home he had seen at the forest's edge. A farmer and his family had lived there once, he recalled. He had seen them before, but now they were gone, the house in ruins.

"Quickly!" Gandalf hissed once the man had gone from sight, collecting himself. He followed after. None had seen Gandalf rattled so. With few words, they all followed with haste. Only Thorin had the voice to ask why it was they followed after this stranger and who was it that he carried. He met with Gandalf at the end of the forest, the ruined home in sight. The stranger could be seen moving behind the walls.

"Gandalf," Thorin said, his eyes remaining on the house. "Who is this stranger? Who is the woman?"

But the wizard only shook his head, gripping his staff tightly as he continued on. Behind the remaining walls of the home the stranger had lowered the woman into a corner and was busy rummaging. It was unknown what he searched for.

"They are myth," spoke Gandalf, a wonder in his voice.

They stood back as the man made a space around the woman he had placed in the corner. It was then that the others were finally able to look upon this woman. Her hair was darker than the night and her skin pale, though, as she lied there, a color could be seen emerging under her skin. As if now being under the sun, it sought to soak up its warmth. Her face was sharp, having a cruelness about it, a hardship. The hands that laid lax spread out like fingers of a spider. Her clothing, as with the man's, was queer. She did not wear what any of the company thought proper for a woman. The clothing was similar to the man's, but much finer. Over the large tunic she wore a leather coat, the collar outlined in dark feathers. If not for her face and the body shape hidden under the coat, one would have mistaken her for a man. All over the material that covered her were emblazoned feathers, looking as if they were falling from a black background. Striking out from under the thin armour over her chest was the battled head of a raven, the tips of its outspread wings just visible.

The man stopped before her, watching over her. He turned behind to see the others had followed him. Wringing his hands, he nodded to the wizard. "I am Aramil."

"And I am Gandalf." He stepped closer towards Aramil, overlooking the woman. He lowered his gaze, following the feathers that trailed the woman's clothing, until his eyes rested on the emerging raven upon her chest. "And she is…"

Aramil smiled sadly. "Real. She is very real." The man looked back behind to the others. At this, Gandalf introduced all in the company. "Where is it you travel, friends?" Thorin did not answer, turning to the others, ensuring they, too, wouldn't answer. But Gandalf spoke of their journey. Aramil nodded lightly, as in thought. "I remember Erebor, but only in passing. I have not traveled in a long time." He chuckled.

"Have you been here?" Bilbo asked. Aramil nodded. "How long?"

He thought on the question. "I am not entirely sure. Very long, I suppose." Aramil sighed. His hand gripped on the hilt of his sword for a fleeting moment as he looked upon the woman. He then turned to the hobbit. He stood much taller than the hobbit, but not as tall as the wizard. "Will you keep watch over her?" he asked Bilbo.

The hobbit sputtered. "I—I'm not—what if she wakes?"

Aramil laughed. "Not this soon. She must find her way back first and that will take time." He spoke to Gandalf then, but his eyes roamed over to Thorin, having now learned he was a leader to this group of…Dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard. Another Dwarf, Balin, came forward as he spoke. "I would have words with you."

The wizard and two Dwarves followed after Aramil as he walked from the shelled home. Out in the field he stopped and stood, away from the others, but still in their sight. He could see Bilbo and a few of the others carefully approach the woman. He smiled faintly, knowing well of their curiosity and fear.

It was Gandalf who broke the silence, his eyes, too, on the same sight. Balin followed their gaze, but Thorin studied the man. "So you are not myth," Gandalf said with a wearied sigh. The wizard could feel as Thorin and Balin looked up to him with questioning. He thought of how to explain what it was they looked upon. "We all have our tales, do we not?" he said. "Of things thought never to exist." He shook his head. "I do not recall ever knowing what they were called, but I remember this race. One only mentioned in fairy tales." He turned sadly to Aramil. "And I remember the only tale ever told, but never written."

"The rise and fall of Vidari," said Aramil.

"But not so," quickly Gandalf said. "Not so. She could not have fallen if she now wakes."

Aramil chuckled, the curls about his head shaking and the creases on his face deepening. "Perhaps you are right then, wizard."

"Is she Elven?" asked Balin, but Gandalf shook his head.

"There is no word for what they are," he answered. He looked to Aramil. "Not in any tongue we could scarce understand."

"We are shadows, of a long forgotten time," said Aramil. "Nothing else, not anymore."

"I must speak with you, alone," Gandalf said to Aramil. He turned to Thorin and Balin, bidding they take leave. To return to the others and keep watch over this woman, this Vidari. The Dwarves did not move at his words. Gandalf exhaled loudly, standing to his fullest height. "Go and make sure the others do not start poking her with sticks!" he exasperated.

Unwillingly, not trusting this newcomer, Thorin left with Balin. While the others had gathered around Vidari, he remained behind. But still watching. He would turn and look behind him, to the wizard and Aramil, seeing the two speaking. One moment in grace, in the other, heatedly. What was it they spoke of? And why in the name of Durin were they even still there? They should be moving again, not standing around in this field while Gandalf rattled off with this stranger and the other lied limp on the ground.

There was a commotion as Bofur stepped forward from the group, past Bilbo who had been standing nearest to the woman. Balin had said to the others that her name was Vidari. It only served to inflate their interest. Thorin cut through the group, calling to Bofur to stop where he stood. But he stepped forward, his eyes seeing the light that grew in Vidari's skin. Her hands, once pale and cold as ice, were filling with a warmth. With life. With an uncertain glance over his shoulder, he reached out. Thorin rushed, grabbing onto his arm and yanking him back.

"Do not touch her!" he said harshly, eyes on the woman.

"Is there a spell over her?" asked Fili.

"Is that why she sleeps?" Kili asked.

"Look!" Bofur said quietly. "Her skin changes." His face pleaded with Thorin to reach out once more. It was Bilbo who moved past them with quiet steps, his h hand stretched out towards Vidari.

He breathed in deeply at the feel of warmth in her hands. He looked behind to the others. "She is warm," he said. And then Bilbo stood up and moved away with speed; they all did so. The woman took a great breath, it leaving her body slowly, as if a sigh.

The group raised a cry. Gandalf and Aramil were quick to make their way back to the others. "She breathed!" they said. "We saw it! Bilbo touched her hand and then she breathed! Yes, she breathed! She breathed!"

Aramil knelt before Vidari. He cupped her cheeks, turning her head about. He felt at her brow, her neck. Her hands were warming in his. Gandalf came to his side and raised a hand over Vidari's face. He watched intently for a sign of movement, but there was none.

"I do not know how long it will take," Aramil said, grabbing the ends of her coat, wrapping it about Vidari. He turned to Gandalf at his side, his voice low. "My terms, will you agree to them?"

Gandalf looked over to Thorin, who had come forward once more, not liking how the two whispered. "I will."

"What terms?" Thorin demaned. "Gandalf, what deals have you made?"

Gandalf stood, looking to the company. "We camp here again tonight." He began telling the others to do this or that. To find some game or to scout the area, make sure there were no others upon them.

"Gandalf!" Thorin spoke loudly. "Who are they that you cower before them, even the one that lies half dead?" The great Dwarven king in exile turned swiftly as he heard someone laughing. His eyes fell onto Aramil.

"I am Aramil, guardian to the raven. And she is the raven, Lord Thorin. She does forget. She does not forgive." His eyes fell over Vidari. "And when she wakes, you will hear her tale." His head lowered. "And you will pity her."

There was an unsettled air about the group as they sat and waited. Kili and Fili had returned from their scouting, having found nothing. They did return with three conies though and Bombur was quick to get them into a stew. They sat and ate in small groupings, eyes always pulling them back to the house. In such a small company, it only took one whisper for the word to travel to all that the woman, Vidari, had taken another breath. And another and so on, until finally as the afternoon came to pass, the rise and fall of her chest could be seen steadily. It was at this time that Aramil excused himself from the party, returning to the troll cave. Gandalf kept vigil over Vidari.

The others were remaining outside the broken house, but still close enough that their eyes could see all. Thorin rose from his spot near the now fireless pit and came to the house. Gandalf sat on an old chest, staff in his hands as he stared unblinkingly at Vidari. She truly looked to be sleeping and Thorin spoke in a low voice without knowing.

"We should be far from here," he expressed. "Not two heavier in burden. I trusted you on that matter of our burglar, but now that trust is starting to run thin."

Though he did not look to Thorin, Gandalf smiled lightly, shoulders shaking just the slightest with a small chuckle. "If I believed them to be a burden we would not still be here."

"It is only by chance that we came across them."

"Chance? There are no chances in this world, Thorin Oakenshield. There is a reason for everything. Master Aramil has already said that when she wakes, you will have your tale, for it is not his to share." He became silent as Vidari took another deep breath. "And after that…we will continue on with this journey."

Thorin scowled. "With two greater." He looked down to Vidari's small form. "The wild is no place for a woman. She will slow us down, just as the hobbit does."

Gandalf rose, his eyes on Thorin. His demeanor reminded the Dwarf of that moment in Bilbo's hobbit hole, when the light had been sucked from the room. "I offer my aid to you in reclaiming your ancestral home. If you wish for that aid to continue you will _trust _my judgment."

It was of no use, speaking with Gandalf. The wizard would divulge nothing more on Aramil and Vidari. Nor would he explain why they must remain there until the latter woke. But Thorin knew enough. He knew what would occur once the woman was awake. The two would follow them. That much was clear. Why else would Gandalf insist they sit and wait? It all angered Thorin. They did not have the time to waste; others could be making their way to the Lonely Mountain.

Evening was creeping upon the sky when Aramil returned. In his arms he bore weaponry. Daggers and swords. He came to Gandalf and knelt before Vidari, asking of her.

"Her eyes move," the wizard told him. Behind her lids, they danced every which way. Aramil reached out to cup her face.

"It is nearly time," he said. Her skin was fully warm now. Its color had returned. "They will hear cries," Aramil warned. "I will do what I can to subdue her. You must keep them from here."

Gandalf nodded and left, going to the Dwarves and hobbit, ushering them away from the home. They all asked what was happening, if she was waking. Why couldn't they see? What was wrong?

As night fell the companions could hear nothing. But as the moon appeared in the sky a struggle emitted from the broken walls. Muffled cries of battle reached their ears. Many stood, though they could not move. Gandalf urged them all to remain where they were as he slowly stepped away. Thorin followed behind.

Coming closer, the cries grew louder, more painful. The corner in which Vidari had rested was empty. In the other corner though was a sight to send shivers down the spines of all. Aramil held onto Vidari, crouched above her. She shivered and breathed deeply, her mouth covered as she cried out in anger. She growled and thrashed as her body was racked with agony. It was like being reborn, but having to first pass through death. To relive it. Vidari gasped as she could feel the cold of a ghost steel burst from her chest. She could feel as the second blade pierced her side. Another her back. But looking down, palms covering herself, she saw no sword or blood. Only the pain remained. She clutched at her throat, the cold of blade and blood upon her, though not seen. Aramil fought to keep her to the ground, pinning her side to the dirt floor. Vidari clutched fists of earth, pounded at it, as her cries grew silent. Her breathing erratic, she fought to gain control. As her muscles began to relax, Aramil released his violent hold upon her. He looked up to Gandalf and Thorin who stood at the far side of the home.

Vidari took one last deep breath, brushing a hand over her throat, feeling the slight rise in her skin. She laid on her side, staring at the broken walls of the home while taking slow breaths, her mouth hung slightly open. Her eyes began to wander, looking to the ground beneath her, to the shattered roof above her. All in a fragile wonder.

Her eyes raced over the area, falling upon Thorin. She stared up at him, eyes strained as if she was trying to remember him. But her mind was blank. She did not know who he was. She looked then to Gandalf, still unknowing. Looking behind her, she saw Aramil, who had lowered his head and would not meet her gaze. He remained kneeling before her as she rose on worn legs, steadying herself. She stood shorter then Aramil, such a small thing, but there was animal in her eyes.

She spoke in a tongue that was unknown. Her voice was soft and harsh, like smoke. She rubbed at her neck, throat sore, again feeling the slight scar that formed there. She grimaced, still trying to remember anything. Aramil could only look on; he had long ago forgotten their words. With slow steps, he came around Vidari, bending to retrieve a blade from the ground. He stood before her and ran the blade across his palm, the blood falling to the dirt. When it slowed quickly, he cut deeper and the blood ran faster. Thorin looked on in horror as Aramil guided the woman to the growing pool of blood, having her crouch down with him so that he could place her hand into the thick redness. She rested her hand fully in the blood, looking like a child playing in the puddle from an afternoon's inhaled deeply. Though her head was lowered, the Dwarf could still see as her grey eyes clouded over with black wisps. She tilted her head to the side as she took deep breaths. Her eyes looked nowhere in particular, yet looked as if she was seeing everything there was to be seen.

The sitting and waiting had gone on too long; the others were nearing. Their mixture of cautious and hurried steps all halted once their eyes came upon the woman. All were silent in their watch as Vidari remained motionless. Aramil had stepped away from her, clutching his hand. The moment ended and Vidari rose, her hand caked in blood and dirt. The cloud from her eyes was gone, though a subdued wonder remained.

Vidari stared down at her hand, turning it over. Feeling Aramil still stood by her, she looked over to him, a wonder floating over her memory. She was piecing a small bit here and there together. She beckoned Aramil to her side and he came. The two spoke lowly and then Vidari turned her eyes to the company. Aramil leaned in and whispered something more to her. She nodded slowly as he reached for a bit of cloth. She took it, wiping her hand clean. Her eyes searched around her slowly. This place was new to her. She looked to those that had gathered and took curious steps towards them. She came to stand before Gandalf, looking up his great height.

"…Gandalf," she said quietly, testing the name on her tongue. The wizard smiled warmly and nodded to her. She gave a meek smile and turned from him. Her eyes came to Bilbo and slowly she said his name. Her eyes traveled down to the ground. "What are you?" she asked him, studying his feet.

"He's a hobbit," Aramil told her. Vidari looked behind her to him for a moment. "He is from the Shire."

"Shire," Vidari whispered. She moved on from him, to the Dwarves and, one by one, spoke their names. "Dawlin, Balin. Bofur," she said, reaching out to touch the ends of Bofur's hat. She smiled, her eyes bright. "Bombur, Oin…Gloin." Turning to Bifur, the Dwarf said something to her, but she did not understand. "What does he say?" she asked, looking to Bofur. He was telling her to not touch his axe; the one lodged in his forehead. Vidari smiled again, nodding to Bifur and saying his name. She moved along, a hand held out as she pointed and said, "Ori, Nori, Dori." Nori remained still as Vidari reached out to gently touch the middle rise in his hair. She pulled back and then touched her own head. She leaned forwards to Fili, studying the braids in his hair and in his beard. The Dwarf cast his eyes away from her as she reached out, her fingers skimming over his cheeks. "Fili," she said, and then looked to his brother. "Kili." Looking to his chin, she brushed her own, feeling nothing there. She turned away from them, her eyes coming upon Thorin. She was of equal height to a few of the Dwarves, but Thorin stood above her. His shoulders were wide and the coat he wore made him appear as great as a bull before her, and she just a mouse. Vidari stared up at him, reaching a hand out. From behind her, Aramil beckoned for Thorin to not move. She touched the streaks of white hair, saying something in a strange tongue none of the Dwarves understood. Her eyes fell back to Thorin's. "Thorin…Oakenshield." She looked above his head to the moon, then returned her sight to him. Her eyes fell upon the oaken shield he carried and her brow furrowed. Again, she reached out to him, lifting his arm as she ran her hand over the shield. She looked to his hand then, prying it open flat with her small fingers. She laid her palm against his, comparing them. She then pulled her hand back, studying it.

"How do you know our names?" Bilbo asked with a slight worry. The actions of this woman unsettled him some. He was quite relieved that she had not gotten down on all fours and poked at his feet. She did not appear so harmless as she acted. Though small, her face held a cruel beauty to it.

Vidari looked down at her left hand, to the faint red staining upon it. "Blood memory," she told them, as if it was some common sense. Instinct. Her attention wandered away from them, not seeing the dark worry that crossed their faces. Gandalf kept them from saying anything. Vidari walked past the company and out into the field, but still remained close. Her eyes were once again upon the sky, catching the moon. She turned and came back to the others. "Where is this..Ere.."

"Erebor," Aramil told her, poking through the group.

"Erebor. Where is it?"

"A very long walk from here," Gandalf answered with a nod.

"It is your home?" she asked Thorin. "A dragon took it from you?" Vidari looked up to the moon for a moment. Vidari's face became dark suddenly, the light of the moon unable to grace it. She furrowed her brow in a quiet anger. "I do not think I have a home."

With those last words, Vidari walked away from the company again, back out into the field.

**So there you have it, the first chapter! **

**Goal is to have this entire story done by mid March since that's our deadline for class (: **


	2. The Questions Come Crashing

**Thank you for the follows and reviews and faves! **

**For those that are following my other stories, I will hopefully be able to get back to them soon. Since I'm having to write this one for an actual grade it of course has to come first haha. **

They all waited around the low fire, eyes following Vidari as the woman wandered away from them. She looked about her with a calm face, taking in her environment. She seemed to even study the air that surrounded her. Aramil stood with the Dwarves. The only thing keeping them from a panic was how Gandalf perceived Vidari with no concern. Dwalin was the first to speak up, asking what the woman was doing, wandering around so carelessly.

"Learning," Aramil answered, his eyes looking from her to the Dwarf. "She is new to your world, and does not recall her own. She knows that that is dirt under her feet, sky over her head…air she breathes, words she speaks. But that is all."

"She has no memory of who she is?" asked Bilbo, peeking over the shoulder of Nori to catch a glimpse of Vidari as she plucked a blade of grass from the ground.

"Not yet. But they'll come back to her, the longer she remains awake." He had thought she'd awake with no issue, but he wouldn't tell the others of that. He only hoped that her memories would soon return.

Ori gulped, looking worried. "Will she be angry, when she remembers?"

Aramil could see that the Dwarf worried any possible anger would be at him. He was the one that disturbed her sleep, after all. "I would think so, when she remembers why she has slept for so long." He smiled kindly to the young Dwarf. "She will not be angry at you though. You do not have to worry of that."

Thorin had not looked away from the woman, following her every move. "And why will she be angry?" he asked.

"Perhaps it is better that I tell you," Aramil said quietly, after thinking the matter over. He really did have no inkling of how long it would take for Vidari's memories to return. Or how soon. And with the apprehension the group showed the two of them, yes, it would be best if he told them as much as he could. From what he could remember. Aramil looked back out towards Vidari; she had moved to the edge of the forest, looking up to the tops of the trees. He watched her, knowing the wonder that passed through her mind. He had never slept—not for such a long time as she had. There were so many things he had seen, if only he could remember it all. The days had begun to fade together. Then came the months and the years, until at last entire ages passed by while he simply blinked. How many kingdoms had he seen rise and fall? There had been times when the constant watching left him obsolete. And so he'd venture away from his guard, being gone for years at a time, never once thinking any would come across Vidari. When he'd return, she'd still be there. Still sleeping. "You mustn't say anything to her. She must remember on her own." Aramil looked round to those gathered, seeing that they all agreed.

But where to begin? And how much to tell? Aramil looked out over to Vidari and a memory arose in him. "She's much older than she looks," he said with a small smirk. It faded as he continued. "Vidari came too soon." At his words, the faces of others fell. "Her mother bled for two weeks," he recalled, "and then died. Vidari barely lived. My father used to say that, when she was born, he could hold her in just one hand." One of the Dwarves asked of her father. "He died, in service to the king. When her mother died, my father brought Vidari into our home. She was an orphan, because of the king. There were many orphans because of him." His face a small distaste as the next words left him. "She was _ideal_ for our cause. So my father shaped her into a soldier, a people's champion. She led our armies into battle. And won. The king was defeated and the crown given back to the people."

Fili scrunched his brow. "What happened then?"

"There was peace, for a time," Aramil sighed. "But there are always battles to be fought. Some, to be lost." His watch trailed over to Vidari. She was crouched by the broken home. She reached for the dirt, rubbing it between her fingers. "She was wounded, protecting my father. We carried her away, hiding in the underbellies of the fortress. Searching for a way out to the sea. Her wounds were too grievous to survive the journey." Without thought, Aramil rubbed at the cut on his palm. "My father, and those with us, made a sacrifice, so that Vidari could sleep, giving her wounds time to heal."

"A sacrifice of what?" Thorin asked in a dark voice.

"Of blood," Aramil simply said, holding up his palm, the cut in his skin still bleeding slightly. "He had never dealt in bloodletting before, my father. Two in our company had, though never on such a scale." Aramil told them how the life's blood was held highly by his now forgotten people. How some could read the blood, even use it in magic. Spells. They could bend the blood and do with it as they wished. "I was left behind. Father said that someone had to stay with her, keep her safe. We set her in a boat and then I watched until I could no longer see the shore. Passed through storms and mist, and finally I fell asleep. When I woke, an entire world had sprouted up around us." Aramil stopped, remembering when he had first woken. "I went searching. But nothing was familiar. Everything was new. I sealed the boat and…waited."

"But you still remained with her," said Gandalf warmly.

"Of course," Aramil answered quickly. "It was the last thing my father said to me. To stay with her. I could not break that promise." Kili asked what they were to do now. Now that she was awake. "Wait for her to remember."

"But," the young Dwarf said, "there is no battle for her to fight. Her reason for being asleep all this time is gone." He stopped, thinking. "Won't she be mad?"

"Won't she be sad?" asked Fili.

Aramil could only nod to both of the Dwarves. He knew the many things that she would be. And he feared it. Feared her. "But there is your battle," he said at last. He looked over the Dwarves, resting on Thorin for a moment. "We were soldiers once. Bred and raised as soldiers. Perhaps, when she remembers herself, she will wish to take this chance. And fight once more."

The Dwarven king in exile was not swayed so easily though. "And in return, what do you ask for?" He saw how Aramil glanced to Gandalf.

"Nothing from you," he answered. "The wizard and I have our agreement." The others looked to Gandalf and he nodded; he wouldn't say a word on the matter for it did not concern any other than himself, Aramil, and Vidari.

Thorin did not wish to end the discussion, but some of the Dwarves began nudging each other and turning their heads. Vidari was nearing towards them again. She looked slightly confused, brow creased. She came and stood behind the company, not meeting eyes with any.

Looking to those who watched her, Vidari could feel the pity of some crash over her. From others, a fear. An untrusting. She did not understand why. There was much she didn't understand. Herself included. She turned to what she could grasp. "Are we going to the mountain?" she asked Gandalf. The thoughts were all very jumbled in her head, the ones that Aramil had shared with her. She wasn't very sure who Aramil was. But he knew her, she supposed. All these wonders left her with only more questions. She could recall what the blood memory was, but…it felt strange to her. To know something and yet not truly know it.

Gandalf nodded kindly to Vidari, smiling warmly at her. "In the morning, we'll leave and continue on to Erebor," he told her. The wizard ignored the daggered eyes that Thorin surely sent his way. "Till then, I think we should all get some rest."

With slowed movements, all began moving about, settling in for the night. Thorin had told Gloin to remain awake. To keep watch; Vidari was showing no sign of intention to sleep. She had walked off again, this time delving into the forest. Though he trusted Gloin, Thorin too remained awake. He rested against the trunk of a tree, his sight on the dark form of Vidari. Aramil was leading her out from the forest. He had taken her back to the cave troll she'd been found in. The two went to the broken home. As Aramil sorted through the things he had brought from the cave Vidari looked on. She sat on the ground, picking up the blades and studying them. Aramil would take them back from her with a cautious hand. Thorin was unable to remain awake the whole night, but every time his eyes opened, he would see Vidari still moving about them, fully awake.

A few times she unnerved him; he'd see her wandering near the others in the company, just looking at them. He nearly rose, hand reaching for his sword, when Vidari lowered herself to the ground beside Bofur. She lied, looking towards him, her hands clasped and held up towards her face while she watched the Dwarf sleep. Then she rose and walked away. At some point in the night Nori had taken over watch for Gloin. Thorin woke and saw the woman sitting on the dirt next to Nori, her knees brought up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. She stared up at the sky.

In the morning she followed behind Aramil as he offered his help to the others in preparing to leave. Thorin watched while she mimicked Aramil's actions, turning to her left. Bilbo was replacing things in his pack and she held her hands out, taking the pack from him and holding it open. She looked around to the others, seeing how all carried a pack of their own.

"Where is mine?" she asked Aramil. "Do I have one?"

"I have it," he told her.

Gandalf called out to them, saying it was time to continue on. Aramil picked up the two packs he had prepared during the night, slinging both over his back. At his side he carried a sword and in a hand a second. Vidari walked with only the clothes on her back. She traveled at the center of the group, Bilbo just in front of her. Aramil walked behind her. There were many times when he would have need to reach for her back, pushing her along as she would stop to look over the forest. She looked upon everything as if she was trying to burn it all to her memory.

Midday came and the Dwarves stopped in a small clearing within the forest. A quick lunch was had. Bilbo did his best to not stare over at Vidari and Aramil. He was trying to get her to eat one of the links of sausage Bofur had passed their way. But she shook her head, saying she was not hungry. With resignation Aramil nodded. He raised his eyes as Vidari stood and walked away.

"Has she remembered anything yet?" Bilbo asked once she was on the other side of the company. Balin had stopped her, saying something to her with a small smile.

Aramil shook his head. "If she has, she isn't telling me of it." He watched as Vidari continued past Balin, the Dwarf keeping an eye on her. Though less than a day had passed, he was worrying of when the memories would come back to her. How long would it take?

Thorin sat next to Balin, and he too watched the woman. The older Dwarf had asked Vidari if she'd ever travel through the woods before. She had been unable to give him an answer. "It is bad enough we must watch the burglar," Thorin said once she was past them. "Now we have her."

Balin made a tsking noise. "She'll find her footing soon enough," he told Thorin. "She just needs to remember, as Aramil said." The older Dwarf felt a great sadness for the woman. Whatever, whoever she was, it did not matter to him. She was robbed of her identity and for that he pitied her.

"And what then, after she remembers?" Thorin questioned. "I would rather not wake to find her holding a blade to my neck if she decides helping us is not in her best interest."

His quickness to pass judgment and to hold onto it was something Balin was accustomed to. He shook his head sadly while turning round to see how far off Vidari had wandered. He looked back to the group, catching Fili's attention and, with a jerk of his head, had him going after Vidari. Make sure she didn't wander too far.

"We'll keep her close then," Balin told Thorin. He then added, as he had already every time Thorin had something to say concerning Vidari, "Gandalf trusts her, which means we can as well."

Thorin kept quiet, his eyes on his nephew as he walked after Vidari. He stood and told the others it was time that they get moving again. He shot a look into the woods towards Fili, seeing that he had heard him. The younger Dwarf nodded to his uncle, quickening his steps after Vidari.

"The others are leaving," he said to her once he had caught up to her side.

Vidari stopped and turned to face the Dwarf, her face plain. The two nearly stood at the same height. He again told her that the others were leaving and that they should head back. There was a question in her eyes. Fili pointed behind them to the company. Vidari stared off at the others and then nodded. The Dwarf led her back to the others, the corners of his mouth dropping when Balin looked to them. Far as any of them knew, she had yet to remember anything. Her only memories were of an ocean.

As the day wore on Vidari slowly began to cave in on herself. She was still trying to remember the past, but was failing. She could recall the names of every Dwarf there with her, of the hobbit and wizard, but nothing connected to herself, aside from her name. And she only knew that because it was what the others called her by. Vidari. She wondered what it meant.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she did not notice when the others had suddenly stopped. Rustling from beyond their sight had perked their ears. The noise was growing louder, closer. Vidari found herself being grabbed by Gandalf and pushed behind him, Aramil at her side. All had drawn their weapons and stood at the ready, though they could not figure out from which direction the noise was coming from. With a crashing sound a sled burst out from the thick of the forest, pulled by large rabbits. A man, garbed in brown, rode on it.

He stopped the moment he saw the group, jumping from his small perch of wood and rushing over to Gandalf. The others were not very certain if he even saw them there. The man began speaking to Gandalf quickly.

"Something is wrong. Terribly wrong, Gandalf," he said. Vidari tried to look over the shoulders of Aramil, but he would not let her move from her spot. Looking to her right, she saw Ori standing by her. But he moved a step to the side, his eyes darting back over to the wizards. Vidari slid into his previous spot and was then able to see Gandalf walk off with the stranger, away from the company. They spoke in hushed tones.

For a quick moment, Vidari was distracted from the two wizards. She had seen the rabbits that pulled the sled. She began to step away, wanting to reach out and touch the creatures, but Aramil pulled at the back of her coat, shaking his head to her. With a saddened quirk of her mouth, Vidari remained at Ori's side. Her attention back to the wizards. She could hear little of what they said, but caught enough to know that something was wrong. There was a sickness in the Greenwood. And webs. Spiders. All their talk was strange to her, not knowing of anything they spoke of.

"What is Dol Guldur?" she asked Aramil in a quiet voice, her eyes never leaving the two wizards. Movement behind them had her turnning to see Thorin.

"It is a fortress," he said roughly. "What of it?" He watched Vidari, seeing how she turned back to the wizards, her brow in wrinkles as she tilted her head.

"There is a…necromancer there. The brown wizard has seen him."

A few of the other Dwarves that were close enough to hear her gathered round. "You can hear them?" Ori asked. She nodded softly. The Dwarves looked over to the wizards, seeing if they could hear as well, but they could not. They watched as Radagast pulled something from under his robes, wrapped in cloth.

"He says it is not of this world," Aramil told them as Gandalf looked to the item. They could not see what it was though. "It is something dark."

A howl had them all turning away in panic. Aramil pushed Vidari to the back of the group as Thorin came forward, sword ready once more.

"What was that? Are there wolves out there?" Bilbo asked in a worried voice, turning in his spot.

"That isn't a wolf," answered Bofur.

A growl grew above them and Vidari turned, her eyes falling upon a creature that had crept up atop a crag. It stared hungrily down upon the Dwarves. It leapt down towards them, sending Bombur to the ground as it rounded on him. Thorin rushed forward and struck the animal with his sword, Orcrist, killing it with one blow. But another of the beasts came rushing out from the trees. Kili was quick to raise his bow as the beast bounded for his uncle. The strike of the arrow did not slow the thing down. Thorin raised his sword, ready for the attack.

A blur of black and a flash of silver rushed into the path of the animal. A gurgled yelp was emitted and the beast fell before Vidari's sword, its edge dripping with blood. With reflexes she was not aware of, Vidari had stolen the extra sword carried by Aramil, the sheath sliding from it as she brought the blade down on the beast. She came forward, her foot turning the animal's head to the side. The others were silent for a moment, watching her actions.

The stun was soon gone and Thorin said, "Warg scouts. An Orc pack will not be far behind!"

Vidari turned the words over in her head. _Warg. Orc._ Her face was plain as she studied the beast.

"Orc pack?" Bilbo asked, looking frightened.

Vidari walked around the beast as Gandalf approached Thorin, demanding to know whom else knew of their quest, aside from his kin.

"No one."

"Who did you tell?" he asked once more. Thorin swore there was no one else that knew, but his eyes traveled over towards Vidari and Aramil as he said so, suspicious just the more of the two. He then asked Gandalf what was happening.

"You are being hunted," the wizard told him gravely.

Radagast spoke loudly then. "I'll draw them off!" He proudly exclaimed that his rabbits were Rhosgobel rabbits, rushing back over to his sled. He stopped though, looking upon Vidari. A wonder passed over him. The howling of the Wargs redrew his attention and just as quickly he was on the sled and out of sight.

He burst from the forest out onto a rocky plain. The company followed behind, waiting as a large pack of Wargs and Orcs passed. Gandalf led them all from one hiding place to another. Back and forth over the plain Radagast moved. They could hear as he hooted and hollered at the Orcs, daring them to catch him. The old wizard was actually enjoying this! Laughing as the Wargs failed to run him down. Though he was succeeding in keeping the Wargs and Orcs away from the others, there were just too many of them. As the company ran for cover, Thorin stopped, throwing his back against a large boulder. Ori still moved and he reached out quickly to pull him back as the Wargs came running past them. Gandalf turned the group around, leading them in a different direction. He looked to be searching for something.

Thorin turned to the wizard with question. "Where are you leading us?" Thorin asked, but Gandalf did not answer him. He led the group to hide behind a crag.

As they waited, the crunch of the ground could be heard. A Warg stood upon the rock above them, sniffing at the air. Thorin turned to the others, silently urging them all to be still and quiet. At the last his eyes fell on Vidari. The sword was still in her hand and she looked down at it. She appeared as if she was not aware of what was going on around them. Her eyes were set heavily on the blade in her hand. Thorin turned from her, giving a signal to Kili. Everyone held their breath as Kili rushed from the shelter of the crag and took aim at the Warg with his bow. The first arrow struck the beast and a second its rider. But both were still alive as they came tumbling down before the company. With haste, the Dwarves fell upon both Warg and Orc, hacking and trashing at them.

Aramil rushed forward. "Silence them!" he hissed, delivering a deathblow to the Warg. Dwalin crushed the skull of the Orc with his axe, yanking it free.

But it was too late; the call had been taken up. The other Wargs were advancing on them, having heard the cries of the Orc. Gandalf shouted to the group to run, to follow after him. They ran across a grassy field, stopping as the Wargs approached them from all sides. Aramil ran with speed, pushing Vidari in front of him. In all the chaos, none saw as Gandalf slipped away.

"Keep together!" Thorin ordered.

The company formed a circle; Bilbo stood behind Bofur and Bifur. He looked around, spotting Aramil off on his own, not far from Kili. He saw Vidari standing behind Dwalin and Balin. Kili had his bow out, taking down riders as they came near. Aramil would rush forward to finish off the Wargs. The attackers on their side were thinning and then, to Bilbo's great horror, he saw Vidari run off, towards the center of the group to Thorin.

"Hold your ground!" Thorin was shouting to the others. Slowly, the Dwarves drew nearer to him. He had not yet seen Vidari. A Warg and rider were bounding towards him. He raised his sword, cutting at the beast's legs. It fell in a heap to the ground, the Orc atop tumbling off. When the Orc stood, ready to attack, Thorin ran it threw with his blade. A growl erupted from behind him. The Warg was too close to him for his blade to be of any use, but still the beast fell. Thorin looked to the puzzled face of Vidari, standing over the Warg, her sword in its throat.

"This way, you fools!" All turned to a crack in a rock behind them to see Gandalf staring irritably at them. "Hurry!"

Vidari pulled the blade from the beast's neck, turning it over in her hand. The small wonder was still about her face. With the other Orcs still coming at them, Thorin wasted no time in pulling her from the field and towards the rock.

Bilbo was the first to slide down the crack in the rock. One by one, the Dwarves followed. Thorin looked out to Kili who still stood with bow in hand. Aramil was at his side. "Kili! Run!" he cried out. Aramil grabbed Kili by the arm and began dragging him away, looking over his shoulder.

The group kept together as the Wargs reached the rock, huddled closely. A conflict arose; there was the sound of a horn, followed by the cries of the Wargs and Orcs. The group pushed themselves further back into the crack. Thorin's back met with something and he looked behind, seeing Vidari. Her eyes were cast downwards, staring at her hands. When she felt Thorin watching her, she looked up to him. There was a scuffle and an Orc came tumbling down the crack, landing at their feet. Thorin turned from her to pull the arrow from the Orc's neck.

Thorin knew the design well. "Elves."

Dawlin had ventured away from the group, seeing that there was a pathway of sorts. "I cannot see where it leads!" he shouted to the others. "Do we follow it?"

Bofur began pushing Bilbo down the path, the others following him. "Follow it of course!" he exclaimed. He took a step back, pushing the rest down the path. "Come on," he said as Vidari passed, following behind. He saw the strange look upon her face and shot a glance to Thorin. He had seen her by his side. But Throin shook his head and continued on the path.

It was jagged and at times some of the Dwarves had a difficult time getting through. Vidari fought as the rock reached out to snag at her clothing. The pathway then opened up and all were relieved to be free from the rocky confines. Vidari remained in the back as the Dwarves approached the side of the cliff, looking over what was before them.

Below was a valley of green and stone and water. They all looked on in wonder, but Vidari did not know what to feel. She barely heard Bilbo call the place Rivendell. The Elves lived here, though Vidari did not know who the Elves were.

"This was your plan all along. To seek refuge with our enemy," spoke Thorin with distaste. He could not look down upon Rivendell with any awe. It was the last place he wished to be; he'd rather face down the Wargs. Alone. "Do you think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us!" Gandalf rounded on Thorin, saying that the Elves would no doubt try to stop them, but there were questions they needed answers to. Questions the he, himself could not answer.

Vidari was alerted by Thorin's words. These Elves would stop them? But why? Would they have to stay there in Rivendell? Just as her thoughts turned to the Elves, they came back to her hands. She stared down at the pommel of the sword. Her mind wandered, never settling for long.

The wizard then began to lead the group down a path. Thorin was not quick to move, but seeing that he had no choice, he followed behind Gandalf. At the back of the company was Vidari. Aramil approached her, asking if she was all right. She nodded.

She stared at him for a moment, a mixture of awe and anger crossing her face. A mixture of pain. Vidari looked ahead of them, to the back of Thorin, recalling her actions with the sword.

"What am I?" she asked in a small voice that screamed with a foulness.

Aramil did not answer her. He took the blade from her hand and guided her down the path with the others.

**Just as a side note, I am going to be slowing down the speed of the story compared to the film. In the book the Dwarves spent about two weeks at Rivendell because they had to wait to read the Moon Runes. So the next couple of chapters are going to be set in Rivendell (: **


	3. A Growing Distraction

**New chapter time! Goal this week is to get two more done and posted. I only have till mid-March to get this story finished (: **

The group slowly made their way down the valley towards one of the many stone bridges. There were very few whispers passed amongst them. Vidari still held her hands before her in a slight worried manner, looking down at them. Turning her wrists over, studying the muscle and bone underneath skin. It was not till they had reached the bridge that she fully raised her head and began to take in what was around them. They were surrounded by waterfalls and greenery and stone, carved, but looking as though it had sprouted from the earth. Passing under an archway, the group came to an open space, a staircase ahead of them. Elves stood guard up in the high towers. Others stood, half-hidden behind pillars, watching. Vidari saw as one approached Gandalf, coming down from the staircase before them. She looked to the Dwarves surrounding her, seeing the distrust they all wore. She only knew these Elves by their name and did not understand the distrust the Dwarves showed, but their distrust found a place inside her. Though none in the company held their weapons at the ready, they were still held in hand. The Elf that had approached spoke with Gandalf and Vidari watched him, taking in his appearance and the air about him. He stood just as tall as the wizard. The way his eyes seemingly glided over the Dwarves, as if he was trying to pretend they weren't really there. But knowing that they were.

The horns that they had heard earlier, while escaping the Wargs and Orcs, sounded again. The company looked to a group of Elves atop horses approaching quickly across a bridge that stretched out into the valley. Thorin was moving amongst his men, shouting something in their tongue as all raised their weapons. "Hold ranks!" he ordered. Vidari felt as Aramil was suddenly at her side, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her behind him, to the center of the group. She looked to her side to see Bilbo there as well. He had been grabbed by Bofur and pushed to the center. Vidari felt a strange tingle, a want to step back to the front. She did not understand its origin. The Elves circled them all and Vidari moved her head around quickly, trying to look at every Elf. She listened as one unhorsed and spoke with Gandalf in an unknown tongue. The wizard called this one Elrond. He, too, held his head high, a placid look on his face. A Lord amongst the Elves. At the mention of Thorin, she looked to the Dwarf.

"Welcome to Rivendell, Thorin, Son of Thrain," the Elf spoke with a steady voice as his eyes remained on the Dwarf. "I knew your grandfather, when he ruled under the mountain." Thorin gave an insult to this Lord Elrond, saying that his grandfather had never made any mention of the Elf. Elrond did not voice any acknowledgement of the insult, instead looking over the company and again speaking in a foreign tongue. Whatever he said, Gloin took it as insult, riling the others up, shaking the axe he held in his hands.

"Does he offer us insult?" the Dwarf asked, shaking his axe.

It was Gandalf who then told the lot that Lord Elrond was offering them food. The Dwarves quickly gathered their heads, whispering. Gloin spoke up again, saying to lead the way. An Elf appeared from one of the many open-air halls and led the company away. With the prospect of food now on their minds, the Dwarves were no longer hostile, eager to get to the tables of food. Only Thorin, Aramil, and Vidari remained wary of their surroundings.

Seeing that the others were being led away, Vidari was quick to fall in step with the Dwarves and follow along with them. Aramil looked over his shoulder to Gandalf, seeing the wizard Lord Elrond watching the company. It was best that he get Vidari away from this Elf. He did not care for the age in the Elf's eyes; he could know of her.

Thorin saw how, as Aramil and Vidari continued on with the company, the Elf's eyes lingered over them. He said something to Gandalf in Elvish, but Gandalf gave some brushing comment in reply.

"You have a woman traveling with you?" Elrond then asked Thorin, once the group was out of sight and he began leading the Dwarf and Gandalf in another direction. The Elf looked behind as they walked, to Thorin. Waiting for an answer.

"Yes. Yes, very good with a sword." Thorin took notice of Gandalf's again offhanded response, cutting him off from saying a word. He gave a small ramble, saying how he missed Lord Elrond's wine, how very tiring dealing with Wargs and Orcs had been. The attention was drawn from Vidari for the time being. As Thorin rejoined the company he saw her, Aramil at her side. He passed by the table they sat at, sitting at another with only Gandalf and Lord Elrond in attendance. Turning to his side, Thorin saw how Aramil looked about with vigilant eyes. Even towards Vidari. Was that…a fear he saw in the man's eyes? A fear of her? A worry possibly? His eyes now on Vidari, he could see how she looked about her with untrusting eyes. Just as he did. Something about this place unsettled her. She moved very little, eating very little, though no one else took notice; they were all much too busy complaining about the lack of _proper_ food. All these greens that filled their plates and bowls.

A lady Elf then approached the table, leaning down towards Vidari and saying something kindly to her. The way that Vidari nodded her head, how she rose from her chair, followed after the Elf. And the way Aramil walked closely behind her. Thorin knew the movements all too well. He had seen many do the same as Aramil now did. And he himself knew every movement of Vidari's, for he had been raised just the same.

She was more than a soldier.

Thorin saw then how, though her head was bowed as she, the Elf, and Aramil passed by the tables, Vidari's eyes were not lowered. Even as Lord Elrond stopped his speaking and looked to her, Vidari did nothing to lower her gaze, as if she dared the Elf to speak to her without being spoken to first. There was no submission within her eyes. There was wonder and loss, but not weakness.

The three moved from his sight and Thorin was left to only wonder where Vidari had been taken. He knew, at the very least, that wherever she had been taken it was on word from Elrond. He wasn't concerned with her wellbeing, that certainly wasn't the case. But Thorin was concerned with the possibility of Vidari saying the wrong things to one of the Elves.

For some time Elrond and Gandalf spoke of things that did not concern the Dwarf. But Thorin was pulled from his thoughts as the Elf began asking what they had been doing so close to Rivendell. Gandalf's attempts at keeping their secrets was coming to an end. That is not to say he didn't still try to avoid answering Elrond's questions directly. At first, Elrond merely asked to look upon the swords they had discovered in the troll cave. It was a harmless request and so Gandalf and Thorin gladly handed over their blades. Elrond informed both of the history of their swords.

"It would appear that these are not all you have discovered on your travels," the Elf said, his eyes passing over the sword Ocrist as he handed it back to Thorin. "They are not Dwarves. Nor are they hobbits. So, tell me, Gandalf, who are they and why do they travel with your company?"

"They are friends," Gandalf answered, as if it was answer enough.

"The woman is Vidari. The man, Aramil," Thorin said, not turning his stare from Elrond. He waited for a sign of recognition while Gandalf huffed. Thorin ignored the wizard. Elrond was now studying the Dwarf, his attention fully gone from Gandalf. "He called her the raven, that does not forget or forgive."

Lord Elrond looked to the two empty chairs. "And where did you come across these two?"

"In the cave troll. She was hidden away in a wooden boat."

The Elf looked to Gandalf, his brow raised, and spoke in Elvish. But Gandalf would say nothing in return, only shaking his head. Elrond continued speaking with the wizard; ending with saying, "She is not herself. And she should not be here."

"She remembers nothing," Gandalf replied with a shake of his head. But Thorin thought she must remember something—maybe was beginning to remember—by the way she had wielded that sword against the Wargs.

"And the other?" Elrond asked.

Gandalf told him that yes, Aramil still had his memory. "It is vague at times, but he can remember." The wizard moved from the Common Tongue to Elvish. It sounded as if he was pleading with Lord Elrond on some matter. The Elf lowered his head, shaking it as Gandalf continued on. At last he sighed, raising a hand to stop the wizard's words.

"Perhaps I may be of some help to the woman," Elrond told Gandalf and Thorin. "Help her find her memories."

"Perhaps you can keep her here," Thorin added, peering up from his brow. His tone suggested that he meant more than _perhaps_.

Lord Elrond did not reply to the Dwarf right away. He looked to Gandalf for a moment, before reaching for a glass of wine that set in front of him. "If the Lady Vidari regains her memory, and if she does not, it will be her choice whether she remains here or leaves." Thorin bit his tongue, wanting to ask if his choice did not hold weight as well. Greater weight than this woman's. She would be a burden. That is what he told himself. A burden and a distraction.

###

Vidari sat in a room brightened by the light that came down from the night's moon. She had waited till the Elven maiden left the room, only she and Aramil remaining. The Elves had drawn a bath for her and Aramil waited out in the curving halls. Smooth dresses of intricate details had been brought for her, but Vidari only stared curiously at them as they were laid out on one of the two beds within the room. She shook her head, saying that they were not her clothes. She wanted her own clothes. It had taken delicate words from Aramil to get Vidari at least into a simple gown for the evening. She picked at the sleeves that ended just at her wrists. The material was soft against her skin, but it bothered her. These were not her clothes. The Elf had tried pulling her hair back, tried giving her small braids in it, but Vidari pulled away. She just wanted the Elf away from her.

"You may change back in the morning," Aramil told her when he saw her staring sternly at the way the dress billowed out from her waist and to the floor.

The dress had not been a wise choice. As the two sat in the room at a table of dark wood, plates of food set out on it, Vidari's attention was on her skin. She looked down, seeing the scar over the right of her chest. It could barely be seen, but Vidari pulled at the fabric, staring over the raised, marred skin. Aramil was quick to pull back the sleeves of his tunic, showing her his own scars.

"I have mine own. See?" A long scar traveled from his wrist to elbow.

"But…" Vidari said to him. She felt at her neck, her side, back. "I have more." She pushed the collar of the gown back into place, tugging at the top to hide the scar. Her thoughts moved to the clothes she had been wearing. Why were they so different from the dress she wore now? The thoughts slipped away. "I do not like these Elves," she told Aramil then. "Their eyes are very old. Why is that?"

He felt like he was speaking to a child and it angered him. She was not a child. She should not have to suffer through this. But…would knowing again be any better? "They are. The Elves may live for very long and not age."

"They are very tall," Vidari pointed out. Aramil smiled and nodded. "And the Dwarves. They are not very tall." She looked over her hands, then back to Aramil. "Am I a Dwarf?"

Aramil shook his head. "No. You are not a Dwarf." Slowly, Vidari asked what she was then, if not a Dwarf. She couldn't be an Elf. She was not very tall. Aramil sighed, standing from the table. He picked up a goblet of wine. "You should try and eat something. You barely ate this morning." He walked around, setting a plate before Vidari. "I will be back soon." He nearly reached out to her shoulder, but pulled away. Instead, he nodded to her and left the room.

When he was gone, Vidari reached for the plate, pulling it slightly closer. She picked at the small fruits, eating a few. She turned over the leafs of green, taking small bites, unsure of the taste. There were small blocks of cheese on another platter and Vidari grabbed for it. She wasn't sure what was to be done, but then saw a little knife. She reached for it. The cold of the metal felt…warm. It fit so perfectly in her hand. The blade was not very sharp. She stared over the palm of her empty hand. She set it back down and waited for Aramil to return.

But the waiting felt like forever to her. Sitting there in the silence. So she rose again from the table and made for the door. Thinking of the halls for a moment, Vidari began walking, turning this way and that, remembering the path taken from the dinning hall to the room. Soon the voices of the Dwarves could be heard.

The Dwarves were still hungry. Very hungry. None had cared much for a table full of everything except ale and meat. Or the music, for that matter. They had all been provided with rooms, though none were currently in them. They were all seated on the floor of a hall. While they quietly took to breaking down some of the Elven chairs for firewood, preparing their own meals from their own stock of items, Vidari came upon them. She very quickly took note that Aramil, Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin, and Balin were not present.

She was about to turn and leave when one of the younger Dwarves, Ori, spotted her. He was sitting nearest the entrance, in a large chair, a journal open on his lap. He closed it hastily and slipped from the chair, coming over to her. At first he just smiled until she returned the smile.

"Did the Elves give you new clothes? They tried to give us some as well, but Thorin wouldn't let us accept." He looked over to the small fire that was going. "Are you hungry? I don't like green food. But we have meats! Would you like some?"

By this time the others had spotted Vidari as well. They did not say anything to her directly, though their eyes were fully on her and their mouths moved in whispers. She asked where the others were as Ori slowly began stepping away and she followed.

"Talking with the Elf," Bofur said rather matter-of-factly.

Once she was seated on the ground between Bofur and Ori, the other Dwarves went back to acting as if she wasn't there. Their conversations continued and their eating continued. They wondered when they'd leave this place. Vidari declined any food that was offered to her, saying that she had already eaten.

With the night pressing on, finally the others appeared, minus Gandalf and Lord Elrond. When Aramil saw Vidari sitting with the Dwarves, he walked over to her and guided her to her feet and out the hall.

"What did the Elf say?" Dwalin asked from a corner of the hall as his brother and Thorin approached.

Thorin glanced over to Vidari's back with a dark brow. "He can read the Moon Runes, but we must wait two weeks here." There were groans and complaints from the company. Much as he didn't want to admit it, Thorin told them, "We have no other choice. It will be better to reach Erebor knowing where to look for this hidden door." He held onto the small hope that the lady would not remember herself within that time, forcing Vidari to remain behind as they continued on.

Knowing their fate for the next two weeks, the company slowly left the hall as the night went on, finding sleep in their rooms. Aramil had already guided Vidari away from the others, saying it was time to get some rest. He didn't know if she would even sleep, but still, he wanted her somewhere nearby. Not wandering Rivendell. At the door that led to their room, Vidari paused and looked up and down the hall. She saw Bilbo standing outside his room. He smiled softly at her, waving a hand. With a blank face, she raised her hand as well. Then Aramil followed after her into their rooms.

Guilt riddled through Bilbo as he thought back on what he had heard in the night.

Thorin had handed the map over to Lord Elrond, to Balin's protest. But Elrond could not read the runes. He knew at the very least that they were Moon Runes. But those sort of runes could only be read under the light of the same moon of the same season as they were written on. And that moon would be here in two weeks. Bilbo could tell instantly that the Dwarves were not happy with having to remain there; they wanted to get to the Lonely Mountain. Thankfully, Thorin and Balin had said nothing about the quest and so Lord Elrond had welcomed them to stay in his house as guests until he was able to read the runes.

Bilbo had known the runes were not the only thing the Elf had wanted to speak of, for Aramil was there in Elrond's study with them. Elrond paced slowly across the study as Aramil answered his questions, Gandalf butting in to say something here or there.

Aramil retold what had been said to the company concerning Vidari, of how she ended up like this. "The use of blood is not to be taken lightly," Elrond had said, seriousness across his face. "And in such an amount…" he added, thinking of the many that had spilt their blood for the woman. Aramil had told him that five in total had given their lives in the sacrifice. "Not even the Elves would dare to try such a thing," said Elrond. "The risk for mistakes is far too great." He had turned then, looking pointedly at Aramil. "And it would seem that mistakes have been made. Her memory is gone."

"But, she can get them back. Just…needs to…remember," Bilbo spoke. He did not feel that he had a place there, but there he was, and so he was going to say something.

"It is not as simple as that," Gandalf wearily told him. Balin asked why.

"You say she remembers nothing?" Lord Elrond had asked. "She has shown no sign of remembrance?"

"The Wargs," answered Thorin, crossing his arms. "She slew two Wargs, as if it was instinct. Second nature."

Elrond nodded. "It was instinct. Was she confused then?" he asked. "As if she did not understand what-how—she had done this?" The Dwarves and Bilbo nodded. "There may be but a part of a memory in her, but her actions were based on instinct."

"Can you help her?" Aramil had asked.

"What of this bloodletting?" asked Balin to Aramil and Elrond. "Would it not help her remember, if she could see the memories?"

The two shook their heads, faces dark.

"There is no knowing what would happen," Aramil said and Elrond agreed.

"Even if she cannot remember on her own, bloodletting would not be a choice." Thorin asked the Elf why. "You say she used the blood to learn a little of our world, but that she used Aramil's blood. The only true memories of who she is should come from herself."

"She'd have to use her own blood?" Bilbo asked in horror.

Elrond nodded. "And…_if_ the memories returned, there is no knowing her reaction. To realize what she once was, what she now is. It may very well be better that she never remembers."

"Then let her live out her days here in ignorance," Thorin had said to them all.

Lord Elrond had been quick to turn on him. "You would do well to show the Lady Vidari respect. She is not so very different from you, Thorin Oakenshield. She did not ask for the burden that was placed upon her, but she accepted it nonetheless."

"She was a soldier…" Lord Elrond looked to Bilbo at his words and nodded.

"And a queen," the Elf spoke, watching the Dwarven king.

Thorin and Balin looked over to Aramil, question in their eyes. The former spoke to Aramil and Gandalf. "You have been keeping secrets."

"To protect her," answered Aramil. "And I would ask that you now do the same. Tell no one else."

Elrond put an end to their talks. He promised to Aramil and Gandalf that he would speak with Vidari. To see if he could be of any help in recovering her memories. He would not deny her her identity, but if she could not remember on her own, Vidari would have to remain unknown to herself. He warned the others to be wary of what they said to her, to treat her kindly. And that if she began to remember…treat her kindly.

As Bilbo stood in the room given to him by the Elves, he sighed. He looked to the closed door, imagining Vidari standing in her own room, utterly lost. Part of him wished she'd wake in the morning and remember everything. Just so that he'd be able to look at her without guilt. And pity.

**Thank you to all who are following along with the story, you guys are amazing (: I have the next chapter nearly done, just going through and checking over things. And the chapter after that is already started on too! **


	4. The Ghost Of Memories

**Posting this a day early since I finished it sooner than expected (: **

Bilbo never saw her on her own. Even when he thought she wandered alone, Aramil was always close behind, keeping an eye on her as she walked through Rivendell. The morning after their arrival, everyone had come together for breakfast in the same hall as the night before. They came and went and they finished, going off to explore this last Homely Home. Lord Elrond had given them leave to walk wherever they chose. Still, their steps were watched by Elves on guard high up in towers. When Bilbo had come to join for breakfast, he saw at the head table Elrond, Gandalf, and Vidari. A few of the Dwarves were missing, still sleeping or already off exploring. While he ate, Bilbo would steal glances over towards Vidari.

Elrond was speaking lowly to her, a few words here or there. She wore a new gown, this one still simply sewn together, but a sight nonetheless. It was of a dark hue. Against her hair and skin, she looked to be in mourning. Aramil had convinced her to not return into her old clothing; it left her asking questions of why she had worn such clothes. She did not say much to the Elf lord, eating in mostly silence, her eyes looking over to the table of Dwarves. She had felt much better sitting there with them.

She spent the day in Lord Elrond's study, searching slowly through the books and maps he kept. Many of the things—nearly everything—she did not understand or know of. But still, it interested her. Elrond sat in the room with her, answering the questions she had. Aramil would rest somewhere in the shadows or by her side, looking over her shoulder at whatever had caught her attention. He'd look to Elrond, his face expectant. Hoping that perhaps the Elf saw something spark in Vidari. But he didn't.

For three days she remained in his study, coming back to it every morning and taking everything in till the sun set. Though she could not retain everything her eyes saw and read, she began to learn how small she was compared to this world.

On the fourth day Lord Elrond had asked to see Vidari alone. Aramil remained behind during dinner while the Elf guided Vidari away. When it was time for sleep, Aramil discovered that Vidari was already back in their rooms. The brothers, Kili and Fili, had found her sitting out on a balcony. They said she had looked very sad. So they guided her to the hall of rooms and left her there, saying they would come and find Aramil for her.

The next morning, Elrond gathered Aramil, Gandalf, Thorin, Balin, and Bilbo. They met with him on the upper level of his study as the Elf looked out over the valley. Down below, Vidari was crossing one of the bridges, Nori with her. He and a select few of the other Dwarves had taken to spending a small time with Vidari. And she did not mind that; while her mind was still filled with questions, when with the Dwarves the questions were not about herself. They were a good distraction.

Elrond and the others watched as Nori pointed to something down below the bridge and produced a pebble from one of his pockets. He crouched down, peering over the edge. He smiled wily as Vidari joined him at his beckoning. She held her hair back and watched as he chucked the pebble down. Nori then scooted back from the edge, Vidari with him. He laughed quietly as the pebble hit Bofur on the head, who was walking through one of the gardens with Bifur and Dori.

"She does not remember," Elrond told them with a saddened smile. Nori was handing a pebble over to Vidari and urging her to toss it over the side.

Elrond had done what he could for the woman, but Vidari was beyond his help.

"Sometimes," Bilbo said, peeking over the balcony, "she's just there. It looks like she's trying to remember, or that maybe she does, but…then it's gone. Like the memory slipped away."

Elrond agreed. "There are small things that she has remembered." He looked over to Aramil. "But they are not true memories. She has said that you act as a brother to her. A guardian. And so Vidari believes she grew up with you. While that is true, she lacks any recollection of bring raised with you." Elrond listed other _memories_ that Vidari had shared with him. The ones that seemed to bother her. She believed that she must have been in a fight, because of the scars. Perhaps a battle, but she was unsure of why she would have been in a battle. She thought she was attacked. That must have been the cause of the scars. Vidari also thought that she was very old, older than she looked. She had only just begun thinking this, after having stared at her reflection in a water fountain.

Down on the bridge, Nori covered his mouth to keep from laughing too loudly as he and Vidari tossed more pebbles. He looked up for a moment and saw the group on the balcony. With a coughing fit, he hung his head, helped Vidari up, and hurried off, out of sight. Balin smiled sadly.

"She asked how it was that she took down those Wargs you spoke of," Elrond told Thorin. "I tried planting a thought in her mind, that perhaps she had a skill with a blade. Which, we know is true. But, she could find nothing. She does not understand why or how she knows these things. Still, she now believes that she has used a blade before."

"The more she tries to understand, the greater her frustration will grow," Aramil told them. "And making up these memories, it will reach a point where it isn't enough for her. This past night, I found her in the rooms. She was insistent, asking what she had been doing before she fell asleep. And she refuses to destroy the clothing she had been wearing when found. She's asking questions about them as well. Again."

Elrond thought over the matter. It was Balin who spoke first though.

"The lass is looking for something to fill her head. These books," he said, waving a hand, "she cannot ask them a question and receive an answer. Least not the questions she wants to."

"What do you suggest, Master Balin?" Lord Elrond asked.

"She had asked of Erebor—the dragon—when we'd found her. I will tell her. Maybe these stories will fill her head and then she'll no longer wonder of herself."

"And what if she still asks? What will you tell her then?" asked Thorin.

"Lie," Armail answered quietly. It wasn't something he could easily admit, but with no sign of improvement, lies were Vidari's only hope for peace. "We'll say we do not know who she is. We may say that we found her sleeping in that empty home."

"Yes," said Balin, who then looked to Gandalf. "You said a farmer and his family used to live there. We could tell her that when we found her, the others were gone. The trolls took them and only she was left."

"There are risks in this," Gandalf warned. "But, I believe it may be the only choice we have at this time. It will be good to keep her mind occupied. And I know that Balin will not run short of tales any time soon." He looked to the Dwarf. "I might suggest beginning with the start, that will be a wise place to begin. And if she asks of herself, I believe it best to inform Lord Elrond. As well as the rest of us. Together we may weave a tale for her."

That evening as the company feasted Balin beckoned Vidari to come and sit with him in the hall. "Have you read every book there is in Lord Elrond's study?" he asked her, his eyes bright. Vidari gave a small smile and shook her head. "No? No, well, neither would have I. Have you seen the painted halls?"

Vidari nodded. She had seen the halls painted with scenes from battles long ago. She had looked upon the statues that littered all of Rivendell. "I did not look at all," she told Balin. "After looking upon one Elven face I feel that I have seen every face there is amongst this race."

Balin nodded and smiled, pleased that this task would be an easy one. Or at least starting it would be. "I suppose you did not see much on Dwarves in that study then." She shook her head and asked where the Dwarves had come from. She'd seen depictions of the coming of the Elves. And Men. But not the Dwarves. "We came from under the mountain."

Vidari furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "Why under it?"

The others kept their distance for the night, though they still listened, as Balin told Vidari of the creation of the Dwarves. Of Mahal and Ilúvatar and the Seven Fathers. Of Durin. She learned of the different Dwarves; the Long-Beards, Broadbeams, Firebeards, Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks, and Stonefoots.

"Which one are you?" she asked Balin.

"Long-beard. Durin's Folk."

Vidari had turned to see some of the Dwarves leaving the hall. Though she wasn't tired—hadn't been for the past few days—she'd follow suit with the Dwarves and sleep when they did. Or at least just lie in bed. She excused herself from Balin, saying that she was going to retire for the evening.

"I will tell you more tomorrow. If you wish." Vidari stared at him for a moment. What else was there for her to do? She nodded.

As Vidari made her way down the halls she could hear some of the Dwarves, already in their rooms. Passing by an opened door, she saw Fili and Kili. They sat at a table, playing some sort of card game. They were laughing and talking animatedly. The brothers had spent time with her earlier in the week. She'd been lingering in Lord Elrond's study when they found her and insisted she come along as they explored the outer regions of the valley. Kili quickly stood when he saw her in the doorway, asking if she wanted to join them, but Thorin appeared in the hallway behind Vidari.

"Let her sleep," he told his nephews. He, like the other Dwarves, no longer wore the heavy layers of their travels. The coat and armoured tunic and vambraces were gone; he wore only a plain tunic, dark blue with golden stitching. His hair was much more tamed and Vidari could see he wore two braids in it with silver clasps.

She did not understand why the Dwarf looked at her in such ways as he did now. His face always hard, eyes never moving from her. Waiting for her to do something wrong she felt. Like he expected the worse from her. Didn't trust her.

Thorin was already making his way further down the hall, away from her. As Vidari began making her way to her own room, a thought crossed her mind quite suddenly and she could not stop from asking it.

"Are you one of Durin's Folk?" she asked Thorin in a loud whisper. Stiffly, Thorin turned around and nodded. He was not pleased to see that his doing had caused Vidari to walk up to him, away from her room. Her hands were clasped before her, making her look curious and cautious. But her eyes were veiled with unwaveringness. "Why is your beard not long?"

Thorin would not answer her. She would not understand. It was a reminder of the past. Not since Smaug had Thorin allowed his beard to grow. A sign of his shame. When the beards of his father and grandfather had been singed in the fires of Smaug, Thorin had cut his. He would never let it grow long until after Smaug had been defeated and his father and grandfather avenged. Vidari would never understand that. The woman did not even understand herself.

The Dwarf left Vidari where she stood, entering his room with a resounding _thud_ as he closed the door behind him.

While Vidari lied awake in her bed that evening, she stared out towards the balcony. Wondering of Thorin's beard. She rubbed at her face absentmindedly. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she'd ask Balin of Thorin's beard. She went to sleep that night, her last thoughts not of herself, and woke the same in the morning.

###

She walked slowly through the valley, peeking up above to the bridges and balconies, Balin at her side. They had eaten breakfast with the others and then the older Dwarf asked for her to walk with him. He had spoken with Elrond and the select others earlier, telling them of his small progress with Vidari the night before. She had done more than merely listen to him; she'd ask questions, had shown an interest. And she didn't bring up any thoughts or questions concerning herself. Her attention had been solely on what Balin told her.

"Kili has a very short beard," Vidari said as they walked.

Balin chuckled. "Yes. Yes he does. He is still very young though. It will grow, in time. Perhaps it will be as long as mine," he told her, looking down at his white beard.

Vidari smiled kindly. She'd learned to do that very well and very quickly. She found that people were more at ease around her when she smiled. With the smile still softly in place, Vidari then added, "But what of Thorin? He is not as young as Kili, is he?" Balin shook his head. "Then why is his bread not long or as fanciful as the others?" She looked over to Balin as they walked. "I asked him last night, but he did not tell me. He did not say anything."

The older Dwarf sighed and was quiet for a moment. This explained Thorin's foul mood that morning when he'd told the small group of his evening with Vidari. "He has not allowed it to grow out since we left Erebor. He was a young Dwarf prince then, when Smaug came." Balin told her of the fire that the dragon breathed down upon the Dwarves as it broke through the great doors of Erebor. "Thorin led the charge. I was at his side." Many were set ablaze, but Thorin was one to survive. He was one who had made it out of Erebor, the smoke still clinging to him.

They came upon one of the many gardens within Rivendell. Vidari had already visited this one in particular, with Ori. He'd shown her the drawings he'd done of the various stone statues. He even had a few of those in their company. At the center of the garden was a weathered statue of a woman. Her head was covered by a hood, but Vidari knew she was an Elf, just like all the rest. Balin lowered himself to sit below the statue. Vidari came and sat beside him, her knees bent and the bottom of her dress pooling around her.

"Why did Smaug come to Erebor?" she asked Balin. She had already asked if there were more dragons, hiding in the mountains. He'd told her Smaug was the only he'd ever seen.

He knew that Thorin would not approve his telling Vidari of these things, of him, but she had asked. And it would be better if he answered her; keep her from going back to Thorin with her questions.

"Thror was King Under the Mountain," Balin began.

Mightiest of all the Dwarf lords. And he ruled over the greatest kingdom of all Middle-Earth. Erebor. The city of Dale sat in its shadow. As Erebor flourished, as did Dale. Its livelihood within the mountain itself; in precious gems and streams of gold that fed through the rocks like veins. The Dwarves never stopped their delving, always searching deeper and deeper into the mountain. That was where they found it. The heart of the mountain.

The Arkenstone.

The King's Jewel, as it was called by Thror. For him, it was a sign that his right to rule was divine. As it was for others, for never before had such a jewel been found. All paid homage to him. Even the great Elven king, Thranduil. The years of peace and plenty continued for Erebor. But they could not last. It was slow, but once it had begun, the sourness that rooted itself in Thror could not be stopped. Night closed in around him. His love for gold grew to a greed. It filled him as a sickness would, poisoning his mind. And where sickness thrived, bad things were sure to follow.

The kingdom of Erebor pulsed with fortune up to that very day. The day Smaug came. At first, they had only heard his coming. Like a hurricane coming down from the north, a noise none had ever heard before. It set a worry within all. They fought to breathe as the wind blew hot and dry. The very pines and trees could be heard to creak and crack in the air.

"Thorin had been the first of us to know what was coming. He told me to call out the guard. Sound the alarm," Balin said, remembering the day. "Smaug razed the city of Dale to the ground. It was not the prize he was after. His eyes were set on Erebor. Dale…was just in the way."

Vidari wanted to ask more of the city of Dale, but the fate of Erebor tugged at her mind more strongly. In her listening, she had hunched over in interest, resting her arms over her knees.

Erebor had been lost; the Dwarves had tried to withstand Smaug, but it was pointless. The dragon crushed the doors to Erebor as if they were only made of paper. Within the mountain was a blaze of death. Smaug moved through the halls as if he knew the place already, finding his way to the halls of Thror's treasure. The king's sickness still clung to him fiercely. He only cared for one thing. The Arkenstone. But it had been lost within Erebor. He would have surely thrown himself within the hall of gold, being torched by Smaug, if Thorin had not been there to pull his grandfather away. Those that had survived ran from the mountain, through the skeleton of Dale that still sat blazing.

"The Elves had come. King Thranduil. But…when he saw the desolation, he turned his people away. He would not risk their lives against the wrath of Smaug."

The Dwarves of Erebor wandered, a once great people now brought low. With the king lost to his sickness and his son desperately clinging to a hope that his father would be free, now that the Arkenstone was lost, it was left to Thorin to lead the people. It took time, but he gave the people of Erebor a home in the Blue Mountains.

"How long did you wander?" Vidari asked. "Where are the Blue Mountains?"

"Oh, some three decades," Balin answered, his eyes cast downwards. "When Thorin became King-in-Exile, he took us to the Blue Mountains, to give us a new home." Vidari again asked where these mountains were and Balin chuckled at her hurriedness. "Far west from here. Even past Bilbo's home." She asked how long they had lived there and he told her for nearly a century.

Vidari scrunched her brow. "He was very young when the dragon came," she said aloud. She shook her head and looked to Balin. "But how did he become king? What of Thror? And his father?"

The thoughts troubled Balin. It was too much to relive in just one day. He patted Vidari's hand. "I will tell you of the Battle of Azanulbizar tomorrow. Can't have you sitting here on this stone all day. The ground is no place for a lady." He smiled as he helped her stand.

Vidari continued through the gardens, leaving from one of the many entrances. No one knew where she had gone off to for the remainder of the day. Lord Elrond had put all at ease though, telling them that she was safe and well, having only wandered off. He'd had one of the Elven guards following her, but from a distance. It wasn't until dinner that she appeared again. Through the night Thorin could feel her eyes on him. Even when he would look to her and catch her eyes, she did not turn away, but met his gaze. Her head was always slightly raised and she looked down the length of her nose to everything. A queenly gesture. For a moment, Thorin allowed himself to wonder of this queen.

The next day, as Balin had promised, he met with Vidari and told her of the Battle of Azanulbizar. He took her far from the others as they moved through the many stone halls of Elrond's home. He wasn't certain of how Vidari would react to hearing these tales; if any would conjure up memories of herself. If it did, and any were painful for her, he did not want her as a spectacle for the others to stare at. And also, he did not want to lower the moods of his companions with these dark memories of their people.

"The Mines of Moria had been lost. King Thror sought to reclaim them, believing that we could rebuild a life there. Rebuild our forces. But, the enemy had reached the mountain first." Vidari could see the ghost of bloody memories upon Balin and so she kept quiet, not asking or speaking anything. She only listened. They had come to the ends of Rivendell, where the stone gave way to earth. "Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs, led by the most vile of all their race. Azog. The Defiler. He had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin." Balin and Vidari rested on the earth, both leaning against the coolness of stone. The eyes of the latter widened at the former's words. "He began by beheading the king." The breath hitched within Vidari and a shiver shot across her neck. Without thought, she gently gripped a hand round her neck, feeling the scar. She frowned. "He mocked Thrain and Thorin, raising the king's head high and then throwing it to their feet. All the while, laughing." Thrain was driven mad by grief. He went missing, either taken or killed. What became of him was not know; his body was never found. The Dwarves of Erebor were leaderless. Vidari lowered her head, a mixture of emotions coursing through her. Anger, defeat. A want for revenge. Sadness. Compassion. "That, is when I saw him." She looked up to Balin, seeing a small smile form on his lips. "Thorin, still only a young prince, facing down the Pale Orc. He stood alone against him. His armour was rent. His strength drained. Still, he stood against Azog, wielding nothing but a sword and an oaken branch as a shield." In that moment it was thought that Thorin, too, would fall. That the line of Durin would be ended that day. But as Azog raised his blade above Thorin, the young Dwarf prince slashed through the air, cutting the arm from Azog. "He learned that day, that the line of Durin would not so easily be broken." The forces rallied together once more and the enemy was defeated that day. But there was no celebration. No feast. No song. The dead were beyond the count of grief. "But I saw him," Balin said, remembering Thorin standing above all others. "And I thought, there is one I could follow. There is one I could call King."

He did not stop in his tale there. He told Vidari of the time afterwards. Of how Thorin, now King-in-Exile, led what remained of his people to the Blue Mountains and there built a home for them. He told her of the hardships he faced along the way. Of how, though he was now considered a king, none truly saw him as such. Only a few. For he had no crown, no throne, no kingdom. He toiled away in the cities of men, taking work where he could find it. Doing what was needed to provide for his people. And now, there they were in Rivendell, so that Thorin could do this last thing for them. Return the people to Erebor.

A light rain began to fall and Balin ushered Vidari away. As they reached the hall of bedrooms, he noticed a strange look upon her face and he asked if she was all right. "I am sorry if my tale has saddened you."

Vidari shook his words off. "I am fine. I…do not think I like the rain," she told him. She was indifferent to the rain.

Going to her rooms, she pulled out the clothes she had been wearing when she woke and held them in her lap. She did not understand what she'd felt at hearing Balin's tales. At hearing of Thorin's journey.

It all felt…familiar to her.


	5. Steel And Red

**Thank you to everyone who's following along with this story! You guys are awesome! **

She studied the intricate detail that flowed over her clothing. The cloth she held was so different from that which she was wearing. Those in her lap were weathered and most certainly not a dress. The outfit was form-fitting and thick, like a second skin. And black. In the design that covered it, she could faintly make out a dark hue of blue. A raven was strewn across the chest, its feathers battered and worn. Vidari held up her hand, looking at the sleeve that covered her skin. She believed that she could easily tear the material. The clothing that she held onto, it reminded her of the attire of the Dwarves. She set the clothes aside and rose. In the corner she found the swords Aramil had carried for the both of them. She stood before the blades, thinking and wondering.

In her mind she created imagery of what Balin had told her. She could see the side of a great mountain, the rocks littered with the dead of Dwarves and Orcs. She had no clue of what Thror or Thrain had looked like in life, but still she could see them in her mind's eye. Could see Thror fall to the Pale Orc. Could see as grief and madness overcame Thrain. And she could see Thorin, standing alone. Still fighting.

Why was she filled with animosity at these thoughts? A want to…to fight?

Her hand was curled as she reached forward, gripping the sword. She turned to the door for a fleeting second, expecting someone to rush in and shake the sword from her hand. No one did. The steel rang quietly as she removed it from its sheath. At first she only held it there in her hand to her side, the very tip angled to the floor. She stepped to the center of the room, raising the sword and testing it in both hands. It was light and felt like an extension of her arm. Vidari rested a palm against the blade, feeling its coldness sink into her and turn to warmth. Starting on unsure feet, she began moving, turning, slowly slashing the blade through the air. The movements became more fluid as she continued on.

Vidari's ears caught noise in the hall; Fili and Kili. Her lone dance halted and she moved quickly to replace the sword in its sheath. The two Dwarves could be heard moving past her room, down the hall. Worrying her lower lip, she made for the door. Seeing the two brothers, she was ready to call out to them, to ask them all the questions that now flooded her mind.

The questions were hushed as Thorin appeared in the hall before Fili and Kili. They moved past him as he looked to Vidari. The younger brother saw the distraction in his uncle's eyes and looked for the source. He smiled widely at seeing Vidari and called out her name.

"Come with us! We're going to the kitchens," he said.

"Bombur found a room filled with meats!" said Fili.

Vidari would have declined, wanting to go back to her room. To be alone, but Fili and Kili were already coming towards her. Kili wrapped an arm around her shoulders and Fili rested a hand upon her back as the two led her away, both having completely forgotten that their uncle was there. Staring warningly at them.

The two brothers had been kind to her since their arrival in Rivendell. If they hadn't spoken to her, at the least they'd acknowledge her, smiling warmly to her from across the table or saying hello anytime they passed her in the halls. And then…after Elrond…after speaking to Lord Elrond, the brothers were much closer to her. They would stop whatever they were doing or try to engage her. And they were always hesitant to see her part from them.

Vidari remained quiet for the following days. Taking everything in and storing it away, racking it all up and assessing. Balin continued to spend time with her, telling her tales of the Dwarves, of his travels, of what his eyes had seen and his ears had heard. And she would listen, her face a constant mask that none questioned. In her solitude, Vidari would pull that sword from its sheath. Hold the cloth and leather of her attire that was hidden away in a trunk. She followed after Gandalf and the Elves and Dwarves. Watching. Sometimes, she believed that not even the Elves knew of her presence, she was so very quiet.

One evening, she had followed after Thorin. She had found him on many nights watching the moon as it grew in the sky. He always remained alone for nearly the same amount of time every night and so Vidari knew when she needed to retreat. On that night, as she turned from her hiding spot Vidari caught the flutter of a shadow on the floor. Furrowing her brow, she hurried and found a flustered Bilbo just about to turn from the hall. He wrung his hands as he saw that he was spotted. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Vidari moved past him, intent on going to her rooms. The hobbit would say nothing.

But as she neared the hall of rooms, she heard Bilbo's quiet voice come through the air to her. "You watch him. Quite a lot." Vidari turned and saw him standing there with apprehension. "More so than you watch the rest of us."

She wasn't sure if she should acknowledge what the hobbit had said, but then she spoke. It was something she hadn't done in the past days. She'd rarely spoken to anyone. "It's as if I know him. But…it must only be because of Balin's tales."

Bilbo nodded to her, his eyes filled with sympathy. "You understand him," he told her. "What he's gone through."

"Yes. That must be it." Vidari looked away from Bilbo and the hobbit took the moment to leave.

"I've been using the sword," she then called out to him. Bilbo stopped in the hallway and looked back to her. She stood still, her head down, looking to her hands. "I know how to use it. I think I've carried one before."

Bilbo was in a quiet panic. All he could say was, "Perhaps. You—you should talk to Elrond of it."

Vidari nodded her head lightly. "He is very important, isn't he? Lord Elrond. He is a lord, after all." She looked to Bilbo with a lost fear. "I should bow or kneel to him, shouldn't I? And Gandalf. And Thorin. Shouldn't I? But I can't. _I won't._ And I do not know why." She shook her head. "I can't kneel." Bilbo couldn't find the words to say anything to her. What was he supposed to say to someone so torn apart? "Goodnight Bilbo," Vidari said quietly, admitting defeat to her own mind. She turned away again and retreated into her rooms.

That following morning, Bilbo began to collect his own thoughts. He would watch Vidari and save every moment to his mind. Prior, the only Dwarves she interacted with regularly were Balin, Nori, Ori, Bofur, Fili, and Kili. But now Vidari was seeking the entire company of Dwarves out, aside from Thorin. She did not voice any questions concerning herself. She either joined the Dwarves in their activities or remained in the background and watched. Each built their own small relationship with her.

Bofur had taken quite a liking to Vidari. During meals he always made sure her plate was full and in the evenings when the Dwarves remained awake he made sure she always had a spot next to him. He'd retrieve his flute and play her a tune; even taught her a few notes of one song. He never said anything when a shadow passed over Vidari's face as she thought something felt familiar. Or when her mind would wander for a moment. Bofur would repeat what he'd just said if needed or carry on as if nothing had happened. He never faulted at smiling at her and there was a charm about him that always made Vidari smile back.

His brother and cousin were much more subdued in their approach to Vidari. Bombur was very quiet. And clumsy. And usually a source of hilarity for the other Dwarves. Being the cook of the company, he hadn't liked not being able to make his own meal in Rivendell. The Elves though had allowed him into their kitchens where he had their entire stock at his disposal. His first day in there, Vidari had come wandering about. She sat and watched as he cooked. Bombur was very proud of his cooking; he was a good cook. And any good cook appreciated praise. That was what Vidari gave him; she complimented his meals and even inquired of what was in a certain dish, how was it prepared. While Bombur exchanged mostly words concerning food with Vidari, Bifur exchanged only ancient Dwarvish. Not even the other Dwarves could tell Vidari what he was saying to her. But whenever she'd remain in shadow and watch the others, Bifur would stand with her. She sometimes had the impression that he, too, was not sure who he was. Likely had something to do with the axe blade lodged in his forehead.

Ori was rather quiet and shy. He fit perfectly beside Vidari. He carried a journal in which he wrote and drew. Rarely did he ever show anyone what was on the pages. But he'd show Vidari. They'd sit off somewhere and he'd let her look through the pages. He was recording the journey of the company and sketching out anything that caught his attention. Ori was very curious of Rivendell, but did not like to wander off on his own. So Vidari would go with him and spend hours in the valleys and halls. And he was always polite to her. Not a single day had gone by in Rivendell when he didn't tell her good morning and good night.

Dori loved talking to her soon as he found that she would actually listen to him, unlike his brothers who would groan and wander off. He was always looking after Ori and shaking his head at Nori. He'd voice his complaints and concerns of the two with Vidari. He was like a fussing mother, always worrying about everyone. Making sure everyone was settled. Vidari never felt unwelcomed if Dori was nearby.

Nori was a dodgy and clever Dwarf, but that was what had drawn Vidari to him. He seemed like an outsider amongst the company. And Nori, though he wouldn't admit it, was drawn to her as well. From the moment of seeing Vidari pulled from the troll cave he knew that there was something off about her. Normally he would have been irritated at being followed around in Rivendell by her, but she proved to be of use to him. Nori could not recall a time when he'd ever had a good reputation; he didn't mind that of course. He would lead Vidari around, the two hiding away and throwing pebbles at the other Dwarves, sneaking off into areas of Rivendell they were not supposed to be in—they'd discovered a path that led out behind a great waterfall. And Vidari would stand guard out in the hall while Nori crept around in the other Dwarves' rooms, rearranging things. He shoved rocks in the bedding of Fili and Kili; he and Vidari would remain awake just so they could hear the two discover the discomfort.

Oin was a very intelligent Dwarf. And rather deaf in one ear. But if Vidari asked him a question—and he heard it correctly—he would spend half the day answering, wandering off from the original topic and filling her head with a vast of information. While they were in Rivendell, all the Dwarves had the chance to restock on their supplies. For Oin, this meant his medical herbs. He showed Vidari everything in his collection, from the herbs and concoctions to the medical instruments.

Gloin was testy and eager to leave Rivendell; to continue on with the quest. But he could say nothing of it, lest the Elves overhear. When there was no worry of the Elves, Vidari would sit and listen as the Dwarf told her of the past battles he'd seen. Of his son that remained behind, though he had eagerly wanted join the company. But Thorin had not allowed his coming, even if he only was just younger than Kili. That was how Vidari learned Fili and Kili were the nephews to Thorin, heirs of Durin.

Dwalin was the opposite of his brother, Balin. He was very gruff and said little. He did not joke around like some of the other Dwarves. While everyone else would be sitting about eating and drinking and laughing, he'd be off sharpening his blades. Vidari could see that he was a true soldier, one that did not ever stop being a soldier. And he was loyal. She knew this because, just as Thorin, he rarely said anything to her. The Dwarf would follow Thorin no matter what. And yet this did not anger Vidari. For a strange reason, she found solace in Dwalin's silence. A belonging.

If she could choose favourites, they would be Fili and Kili, for they slowly became a constant around her, eager to see her smile. Their youthful energy was contagious. When she learned they were the nephews to Thorin, it then explained why he looked upon them with such dark eyes when near her. She had tried telling the brothers of this, of their uncle's disapproval, but both only shook their heads to her.

"He thinks we will both fall immensely in love with you," said Fili.

"And battle each other to the death for your love," Kili said.

"But we would never do such a thing."

"No, never."

"Surely you'd choose me and there would be no need to battle," jested Fili.

Vidari had to stand back as Kili reached out to slap his brother across the head. The two assured her she had nothing to worry of; Thorin's mind was heavy with the task at hand. He'd always had a heavy mind in fact; the weight of a phantom crown atop him.

The Dwarves were becoming unsettled, with their stay in Rivendell coming to an end. They were ready to get back out to the wild. Nearer to Erebor. Their anticipation seemed to slow the days in their passing and so all looked for ways to hasten time. Many took to the practice yards, sparring against one another. The clanging of steel drew Vidari's attention quickly and she found her way down to them. Some of the Dwarves had gathered in an opening in the valley where the soldiered Elves improved their skills. Bofur was battling against his cousin, Bifur. The others shouted from the sidelines, cheering one or the other on. Bifur won the bout when he chanced to tug his cousin's hat over his eyes, tripping him with his boar-spear. When Bofur managed to yank his head free of his hat, he found the tip of the spear at his chest.

It was all in good fun and Vidari enjoyed watching the Dwarves.

Nori went on to challenge Bifur then, staff against spear. Bifur won once more. As evening began to fall, the Dwarves called an end to their spectacle, making their way back. But Kili was keen to get one more battle in against his brother. He had bested Fili earlier and wanted to prove it was not a stroke of luck on his part.

"Would you not embarrass yourself before Vidari?" he asked Fili, a laugh on his lips.

"Won't be embarrassing if I win," his brother answered.

Vidari remained in her spot as the two began circling each other, swords drawn. She smiled and laughed at the taunts the two exchanged. Fili was much more slower in carrying out the swings of his sword; he'd keep a distance and choose his time. Kili fought as he lived daily; with eagerness. Fili even made the comment that he could likely just stand still with his sword out and wait for his brother to defeat himself. Right after that comment, Fili almost lost his sword when Kili tried to kick it from his grip. The younger Dwarf laughed gleefully and jumped back. He knew, if he kept at it long enough, he'd annoy Fili and then the older brother would make a mistake.

Vidari watched as moment after moment passed and she could see the slight irritation grow on Fili's face. He slashed out towards Kili, but the Dwarf only crouched and rolled away, bouncing back up onto his feet. The two carried on in a hurrying manner, their missed blows coming faster and faster. The _ring _and _clang _of their swords meeting in the air echoed in the valley.

She walked around the two in a broad circle, arms crossed and smiling as the brothers tried to best each other. The ruckus they created flowed all around her, bouncing off the trees and stone. With quick steps she moved out of the way as Kili rolled back towards her and Fili was there to quickly lash out with sword. They did not see the smile on her face slip to a grimace as the _clang_ of steel stabbed at her ears. The echo was leaving, being absorbed all into one solid cry. And then the echo was no longer around her, but within Vidari's own head. With each meeting of their swords, she felt a burning coldness strike her. The brothers were fully in their own world, their movements now at full speed. The muscles in Vidari's body began to tense and spasm. She felt as if she was in a fever dream. There was battle all around her.

Kili's game had paid off and he managed to discard Fili of his sword. When his brother tried to attack with the two smaller blades he carried, Kili forced them out of his grip as Fili rolled away to miss a blow.

"Gotcha!" Kili shouted out, raising his sword above his head. He brought the blade down quickly, meaning to stop before ever touching a hair on his brother's head.

The sickly stench of iron filled their nostrils.

Kili cried out in horror and his brother rose with speed to his feet. Between the two stood Vidari, her hands clasped around the blade of Kili's sword. Blood seeped down the middle and down her hands, leaving behind a copper trail. Fili peeled her fingers away from the steel and Kili tossed the sword aside. The two panicked.

Vidari shook her head, eyes becoming clear. "I'm fine. It isn't deep," she said, holding her hands open before her. The skin was puckered up, pulled back. She clutched her fists softly and opened them, seeing the flow of blood increase and the slit in the skin expand and contract.

"Go! Get Oin," Fili told his brother as he took her hands in his and looked at the smooth slits in her palms. "Go now!"

Kili nodded and ran off quickly ahead of them.

"Here," said Fili, tearing at his own tunic and wrapping the material over Vidari's hands. "He wasn't really going to strike me," he told her. "He'd never do that. You know that." He thought of the anger he and Kili would face from their uncle. He shouldn't have sent Kili off on his own to get Oin. What if Thorin heard? He should have had him stay with Vidari.

She nodded. "I…" But what could she say? That she remembered? No, that was not true. She still had no memories of the past. All she had was knowing. And something in her knew she had to move quickly. To reach Fili and block the blow. But she had nothing, only her hands. How did she know to grab the blade? How did she know to move so quickly?

Vidari stared down at the blood-soaked cloth around her hands. Fili held both in one of his while he wrapped an arm around her and led the way. She could hear voices rising in volume, coming towards them fast. She should be disgusted at the sight of her hands. Of the marred skin and the blood trickling over her. But the exposed inner flesh, the peeks of white bone, it didn't turn her stomach. The scent of cold iron was not foul in her nose. She knew these sights and sensations and smells.

The Dwarves and Bilbo surrounded her. Aramil pushed through them, taking Vidari from Fili's grip and led her to the Healers. Lord Elrond guided them as Gandalf kept the Dwarves and Bilbo from following. Vidari remained quiet as she was seated on a small bed in a large hall. The fabric was pulled from her hands by Gandalf. He applied a light green salve to the cuts and the blood flow stopped. Carefully, he soaked a clean cloth and began wiping away the stain of red that covered her. He moved from his spot before her and a female Elf approached. Vidari paid her no attention.

"I lost grip of thought," she said to Gandalf and the others. She smiled faintly; smiling, it always calmed them. "They were so fast. I only panicked. It was silly of me, Kili was never to going to harm him. I just became excited I suppose."

"It is quite fine, my dear," Gandalf told her.

Vidari looked to the wizard and then Lord Elrond and Aramil. Their faces. There was something about their faces. Their eyes. A panic. Worry. She stared down at the pile of soiled rags on the small table next to the bed. Somehow, she was used to this. It didn't faze her.

They knew something.

**Ooooo she's really starting to wonder about them isn't she? **

**Again, thanks to all who are following along, really appreciate it (: **

**Since I'm writing this for a workshop, it'd be great if you guys could help me out! I have a somewhat clear idea of what all will happen in the course of the story, but I'd love to know what you guys think (: For instance, what do you think it would take for Thorin to trust Vidari, does she trust him etc. Just anything you guys think or would like to see happen.**

**I'll be back next week, Tuesday, with another new chapter! **


	6. Whatever You Needed

**Thank you for the reviews! Now let's not waste anytime, and get right into the chapter (: **

She would not be continuing on with Thorin and his company once the Moon Runes were read. Vidari would remain behind in Rivendell with Aramil; Elrond had offered both a place in his home for as long they wished to stay. It had been agreed that Vidari was a possible threat to herself, and because of that, a threat to those around her. It shocked and disappointed Bilbo at how easily Gandalf agreed to these things. The suggestion of Balin's, to fill Vidari's head with lies, was heavily being discussed. Lord Elrond would allow Vidari to remain as she was, but if her state began to deteriorate he would fabricate a life for her. Sedate her wandering mind and bring her some peace.

"Do we have to?" Bilbo had asked the others. He looked sadly to Gandalf. "Can't we tell her the truth? Just a small part of it. Anything. Why must we lie to her?"

"She suffered greatly," Aramil told him, drawing his attention. "Any morsel of truth we give her would only lead to more questions. And suffering. She hid it well in her time, but within she was at a constant battle. To tell her the truth would tear her apart."

Balin sighed. "This is her chance for peace then." Aramil agreed. As did the others.

But not Bilbo. He could not agree to any of it. To think that he would live out his life, knowing Vidari better than she knew herself. He knew very little of her, but still, it was more than she did. It had to be one of the greatest wrongs in the world, to not know one's self. To be lost within your own mind. He did try though, to see the matter through Lord Elrond's eyes. Aramil's. She would be better off this way, he thought. She'd never know the pain of her past. She could start anew. Why, perhaps after this quest was over and Bilbo back in the Shire, Vidari could come and visit him. She would quite enjoy it there, he was certain of it. And when Erebor was restored she could travel with him back there; see Thorin finally wearing his crown. And Fili and Kili, princes of Erebor.

The thoughts brought a small smile to his face. And then he looked upon her and saw the turmoil struck across her eyes. She sat in the gardens with Ori, watching as he sketched out the statues and flowers around them. Vidari knew they were leaving and that she was to remain there. She had made no argument against the decision. A greater emptiness had filled her after the incident in the practice yard. Instead of learning something more about herself, she felt further away. And the desire to search herself out was less than embers now.

To simply put it, Vidari was defeated.

The Dwarves had sent Bilbo searching for her after the incident, he being their burglar. That evening Lord Elrond had spoken with her in private while the others dined. Bilbo snuck off and hid in the hallway, waiting. At last he saw Vidari emerge from Elrond's study. Her hands were heavily bandaged. With head down, she made her way to her rooms. And she had stayed there. Bilbo returned to the Dwarves. At Balin's suggestion, none went to bother Vidari that night. But in the morning when Vidari did not join them for breakfast, a few decided to spend the day trying to coax her out from behind that door.

Ori had been sent first. He knocked on the door and stood there waiting, picking at his mittens. "Vidari? I have a new drawing. Would you like to see it?" he asked through the door. He gasped quietly and stood back when the door opened. He looked up and saw Aramil.

His frame blocked the Dwarf's view into the room. Aramil sighed and looked down to Ori. "She isn't feeling well. Perhaps later?"

Ori hadn't actually planned on saying much else. He frowned and nodded, backing away and leaving down the hall.

A small amount of time passed and then Aramil was back up to answer the door. He opened it to the trampling voices of Fili and Kili. While Fili spoke to him, Kili tried to look past Aramil, even calling out for Vidari.

"When will she be better?" Kili asked.

"We'd like to apologize," Fili told Aramil. "We were very foolish." Or so Thorin had told them when he scolded the brothers. He wasn't upset at the fact that Vidari had injured herself, but upset at the possibility that she could have harmed his nephews.

"Nothing has been your fault," Aramil answered. "She is resting. Perhaps later you may see her."

Later came and went though. Vidari lied atop her bed, eyes staring into the specks within the stones that made the balcony. She could not recall the last time she had blinked. Or that her eyes had even moved. She was unaware of her own breathing. Everything within her mind had been silenced and Vidari looked as if she slept with her eyes open. She just lied there. She knew that Ori had come to the door. And Fili and Kili. But no reaction arose within her. Aramil sat at the table; his chair was pushed back and the heel of a boot rested against the edge of it. His state was similar to hers. He only moved when a knock came to the door.

He had expected Vidari to fight them. To ask more questions. When she didn't, he was unsure of how to feel. Should he be glad that she had given up or worried? If she did not care to learn her identity anymore, what else did she not care for? It was his intent to keep her from the others, in his constant sight. With her choosing to remain there in the room the task had been made increasingly easier for him. Instead of fighting to keep her secluded, he only had to answer the door and turn Dwarves away.

As dinner approached, Aramil rose from his place. The air around Vidari was dead; a void surrounded her where she lied. She was detached. He knew she would not leave that room. He crouched before her bed, waiting for her eyes to focus on him. He told her softly that he was leaving and would return with their supper. He asked what she would like, but she didn't answer. "Would you like some soup? I will see if the Elves have any prepared." He patted the edge of the bed and stood back up to his full height. Vidari's eyes glided back over to the balcony and became fixed. Sighing to himself, Aramil left the room. He checked to make sure no Dwarves were lingering about.

While he was gone, Vidari's eyes moved at the blur of something small coming over the balcony. It shook the air around her. She searched the floor and saw a pebble. Seconds later, another landed nearby. Nori was somewhere down there, throwing the little rocks at her. Vidari's eyes rested on one of the pebbles for a passing moment and then her focus was lost. There was a quiet disruption down below and the pebbles stopped coming.

When the time neared that the others would be retiring to their rooms Aramil extinguished the lamp he had lit next to Vidari's bed. She remained in her day clothes, lying above the covers. She had risen to sit at the table with him and ate slowly from her bowl of soup, returning to the bed after only a few spoonfuls. The moon hid behind passing clouds, coming out to brighten the room from time to time. With every minute fading into the next, Vidari was unsure of when she had actually fallen asleep—or if she had done so at all. She was only aware of the faint notes that found her ears, coming from a flute somewhere near. The song was soft and lulling.

There were only two days remaining before the Dwarves would be leaving Rivendell—though Lord Elrond was not aware of this. Vidari lied awake, fully aware, staring at the stilled face of Aramil. The pale morning light was barely reaching into the room as Vidari softly rose and rested her feet on the stone floor.

Bilbo was the first to spot her that morning. He nearly began to smile, before seeing the pale visage of indifference she wore. He was doing that often it seemed, retreating his smile whenever he looked to Vidari.

She had wandered through the halls, at long last stopping when she came upon a dead-end; she'd climbed the stairs that led to an open room. She was high above, looking over the valley. Pillars curved around the space, a table at the center. Vidari moved past it, taking the small collection of steps that placed her at the very edge. Down below was a myriad of stone and grass and roots.

Bilbo cleared his throat, not wanting to scare her. It was scaring him, seeing how close she stood to the edge. Vidari looked over her shoulder to him. Her head was held high, the skin of her face taut. And then she lowered her eyes from the hobbit, head following suit. The sharpness of her features wavered, shoulders slumped.

He went from that place, deflated and frustrated. Passing through the hall of rooms, Bilbo said nothing to Dori and Bofur who were talking quietly, eyes on the door to Vidari's rooms. He wouldn't tell them she was not in there or that he knew where she was. At breakfast the Dwarves talked quietly a few times of her. The day passed them all and none would have known had it not been for the sun that rose and fell in the sky; time was a peculiar thing there in Rivendell. Perhaps it had something to do with the Elves. Throughout the day Bilbo wandered through the valley and always came across Vidari as she moved from one spot to another. Never once being found by one of the Dwarves, though they did try to seek her out. As the evening came upon them, Bilbo went to the hall where the Dwarves were dining. He found Gandalf sitting off from the others, his pipe out and head bobbing slowly to the tune that Bofur played on his flute.

He sat next to the wizard wooden bench, hands fidgeting in his lap. "Are you certain there is nothing we could do?" Bilbo asked. His eyes scanned over the Dwarves, not wanting any to notice or hear their discussion. The last he had seen Vidari, she was near Lord Elrond's library, and that was not very far from the hall. He'd hate for any of the Dwarves to overhear him talk of Vidari, be inspired to go looking for her once more, and find her out of her rooms. "What ever happened to bringing her along with us? Why are we leaving her here?"

Gandalf did not look down to Bilbo, keeping his eyes on the Dwarves. He puffed at his pipe. "Nothing ever happens without a reason behind it, my friend." He spoke the words with a small smirk. The smoke came flowing from his nose.

"Well then what is the reason for her not having her memories?" asked the hobbit in voice that became shrill at the end. "Why won't they come back? And on that matter, why has she woken at all? I'd say, it'd be much better to remain sleeping than wandering these halls, wondering who in the world I am."

"It is all very simple," Gandalf began, his eyes glinting from the light of the small fire the Dwarves had made (he smiled at seeing Nori toss the broken legs of a chair into the flames). "She was woken for a reason, one which we have yet to discover, for it is not time for us to know such a thing. As for her memories, there is a reason there as well—as I have just told you. Perhaps, my friend, it is not yet time for her to know. When it is, the pieces of this game will fall into place."

Bilbo huffed, pushing himself further back on the bench and crossing his arms. "I was not aware this was all just one large game playing out on a board."

The wizard chuckled, but said nothing else.

Dori came walking up to the two, a tray in his arms. "Would either of you be interested in a cup of tea?" he asked. Out of kindness, Bilbo accepted a cup after Gandalf. Dori left the two and returned to the small fire where the other Dwarves sat.

Bilbo sipped slowly and mindlessly from his cup, his thoughts running over the various complaints he harbored. Shaking his head as he thought this or that. The voices of the Dwarves drew him from his mind with their somber song they began to sing. Not a very fitting tone for the moment, Bilbo thought. His brow became riddled with wrinkles as he actually stopped mentally complaining and listened to the words the Dwarves sang. He looked over to Gandalf, but the wizard sat there still smoking his pipe and paying no attention to the hobbit. With a slight shake of his head, Bilbo slipped away, back to his room.

He awoke, sometime in the night, though nothing had stirred him from his sleep. There was no noise to be heard. Yet he remained there, awake and staring to the ceiling. Morning approached and he rose, dressing and heading out to join the others for breakfast. He was the only one awake; he rose too soon. It was only himself and the Elves that stood guard over the valley. Bilbo sighed, adjusting his vest and turned from the hall where the Dwarves normally dined. He went back to his bed and found himself waking late after lying back down. Rubbing at his eyes, Bilbo returned to the hall and found the Dwarves all gathered. As he sat down between Ori and Bofur, he heard a hitch in the conversation.

Aramil had come to join them. Gandalf saw away from the others in a wooden chair, smoking his pipe and looking out over the skyline. Aramil walked over to him, bending down to the wizard's ear and saying something. Gandalf nodded and said something in return.

Glances were being thrown every which way at the table as the Dwarves silently argued over who would dare to say something concerning Vidari. None looked to Thorin though; he kept his eyes down, eating from his plate, showing no interest. Balin sat to his side and he did look to the others. Gritting his teeth slightly, the older Dwarf turned in his chair as Aramil walked past.

"What was she like, laddie?" Balin asked. Aramil turned to him; he could feel the others were looking to him.

With a small bit of bravery, or perhaps it was foolishness, Kili spoke up from the other end of the table. "Was she happy?"

They could all see that Aramil was questioning slipping from the hall. Bofur straightened in his chair. "Aye, don't think any of us really want to remember her like this."

He knew she was not in their rooms anymore. She had left and gone to one of the many halls in Rivendell, its stonewalls painted in soft tones, depicting scenes from long ago. She was aware that the company would be leaving after that day. She hadn't been sure what to feel, but settled on feeling a great loss. There wasn't much Vidari knew, and now fifteen of those were leaving. The proper heaviness of desolation set upon her.

At the slightest waver in his stance, Dori was up and grabbing an extra chair and setting it at the table. Aramil smiled kindly in gratitude and sat himself down. He leaned away from the table; shoulders slumped and head down as he tried to form the words for how he once knew Vidari. He would not tell them of the hardships. The dark moments fate had thrown at her. Of the actions her hands were forced to wield. The loneliness that surrounded her in every crowded place.

"She was…whatever you needed her to be," Aramil finally said in a quiet voice. His brow rose as he smirked and glanced up to the table. "She was cruel and soft, deceitful and loyal, joyful and grim. Whatever you needed, in that moment, she would be it for you. She would…place herself in suffering, if only to see you with one less scar. She was everything to everyone and nothing to herself." Aramil could see the small comfort his words gave the Dwarves, but still their perspective of Vidari was covered in sadness. He sighed and scratched at his cheek. "If…you wish to say goodbye to her, she is across the hall from Lord Elrond's library." Aramil spotted from the corner of his eye Ori literally bouncing to jump from his chair. "All I ask is that you do not crowd her. One at a time would suffice."

He rose from the chair, picking it up and carrying it back from where Dori had taken it. He came and stood beside Thorin's chair. He saw that his words lingered at the front the Dwarf's mind. "I wish you well in your journey and pray to hear soon of the fall of Smaug." Aramil inclined his head and took his leave. Once out of sight, he hurried away to Vidari. He found her in the room draped with shades of greys and whites and blues upon the walls. There was a pale statue at the back of the room, a woman standing before a flat slab of stone, arms outstretched. Atop the surface was a grey cut of silk. Resting on it, in shards, was a sword. Vidari sat against the stone, the glint from the steel above her slashing across the ceiling, falling down on her head. Aramil came and knelt before her, eyes on the floor. "They're going to come and say farewell." He rose and left the room.

Though it was difficult for many, the Dwarves paced themselves, going to Vidari one at a time and sitting with her; some for only a short moment, others for longer. A few were sad and could not hide it behind smiles, while the rest smiled and embraced her, glad to have this last moment with her.

The first to come was Ori. The others were fully aware of his shy adoration of the woman. His brothers had urged him to be the first to go and see her, knowing that without their push he'd wait till the last moment and possibly miss out all together. He came quietly into the room, for a moment believing he was in the wrong place. As he walked around the large statue though he spotted her. He waited before her and did not move to sit with her until she looked up to him. Ori did not say anything to her; he sat with his knees pulled up to his chest. After a time he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "We'll come back," he told her. "And you can come and see Erebor." With that, he rose and hurried away.

Dori came with two cups of tea. He told her of the special blends he'd be able to make with the plants found near Erebor. He was going to collect as many as he could and would make a blend just for her. Nori came and spoke a small amount to her. "You know," he told her, that air of sneakiness in his words, "you should just sneak out of this place. Come with us. Follow behind for a bit, pop out."

Oin and Gloin and Dwalin did not spend much time with her. They came in, found her, gave their farewells, and left. Gloin slapped a hand on her back lightly, seeing that need to leave that had been in his son's eyes. The want to follow. Dwailn stood in front of her, looking at the top of her head. He told her, "Sorry lass," and left.

Balin came sometime during lunch, with a tray of food. With a nod of his head he beckoned her to join him on a bench out towards the balcony. The two ate in silence, till towards the end when he finally spoke. "I truly wish you were coming with us. I mean that. But, we will meet again. I promise you that. I have not told you all my tales, after all."

Fili arrived and embraced her in a sudden hug. He rested a hand in her hair, holding her head to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he told her. He pulled back and held her at arm's length. "We'll come back, promise. Kili and I. Take you back to Erebor."

"You don't have to be a Dwarf to go in mountain?" Vidari asked.

Fili looked away for a second. "Everyone will think you're a Dwarf…a strange one, but still a Dwarf. No one will know." He smiled to her. He hugged her again and kissed her cheek before leaving; Kili came in just as he left.

He looked to her hands and his face fell. Vidari pulled back the bandages, showing that the skill of the Elves was helping her wounds heal quickly. "This is not your fault," she told him.

He nodded, biting the inside of his lip. "May I sit with you a while?" Kili stayed with her until he heard the footsteps of another approaching. He rose, hugged her as Fili had.

Bombur came and sat, eating from a plate of food. "You'll come and see us, won't you?" he asked.

Vidari looked over to him, the ghost of a calming smile on her face. She nodded.

Bifur said something to her when he appeared, though Vidari hadn't a clue what it was. He made strange signs with his hands and then looked over to the doorway. "I am sorry, Vidari said to him. "I do not understand." The Dwarf grunted and nodded his head. He walked away and momentarily Bofur joined Vidari next.

He came and sat with her on the bench; she had not left it since Balin's visit. "Come now," Bofur said, cocking his head to the side, "none of that lying smile you give us all. Think I couldn't tell, did you?" He said it all with his own proper smile. He saw the sadness and guilt fill Vidari's eyes. Reaching into a pocket, the Dwarf pulled out chunk of wood, and took out a small knife. He began whittling away.

Vidari stared down at his hands, watching as small bits of wood began to fall under his boots. "What are you making?" she asked, wrapping the shawl she wore tighter about her shoulders.

Bofur chuckled, sending her a quick glance. "Can't ruin the surprise now, can I? You'll just have to sit here and wait." Vidari did not smile, but nor did she look sad any longer. As the piece of wood began to take shape, Vidari would lean over, trying to figure out what he was carving out. Bofur huffed and turned his back to her. "No spoiling the fun." He heard what he thought was a small chuckle from her. He spent a great while there with her as he worked away, whistling now and then. As the time went by Vidari leaned to her side, resting against the Dwarf's back, waiting for his surprise to be finished. At last he finished, a pile of wood shavings on the floor. He nudged at Vidari so that she would sit up and he turned fully round, holding out a small figure. "We won't forget you."

Vidari reached out with fragile fingers to grasp the raven in her hands. She turned it over, seeing the detail in every feather. The raven rested upon a bit of the wood that Bofur had left untouched, its head turned, looking behind. "Thank you," she said quietly, staring into the small eyes of the carving. Bofur went on about how if he had the time, he could properly paint it. Even make one with its wings extended, ones that could be moved even. Vidari shook her head. "No, this good enough. More than enough. Thank you."

Bofur stood from the bench and pushed his boot into the pile of shavings. He swept them under the bench, brushing his hands off after replacing his knife. He stood before Vidari with a smile and held his arms out. "We'll be seeing you again, lass." Vidari stood and embraced the Dwarf, nearly standing the same height. As they pulled apart she looked up to his hat and the corner of her mouth rose; she reached out and tugged on one end of the hat.

After Bofur had left Vidari was alone for a time. A large part of the day had gone by and Vidari could feel a tightness circling her. She flashed from moments of panic to ones of nothingness. Gandalf came to her before dinner and stood against a pillar. He reached within the confines of his robes and found his pipe. Vidari suspected that he would say nothing to her, at least until before leaving. And she was right.

"Nearly time for dinner," he commented. "I should go before the Dwarves eat it all and stash more away. Long journey ahead of them. But, I do believe they will see it to the end." He came and stood in front of Vidari, urging her to rise from her perch. He had stuffed his pipe away and reached out to cradle her small hands in his own. He examined the healing progress of her wounds. "Why, I'd say a few days more and your hands will be perfectly well." He smiled. "I think it's time I go and fetch Bilbo."

The wizard did just that; while the others were dining, Bilbo came and sat with Vidari. He could not believe that she had spent the entire day there in that single room. And with the stillness in her; if she kept at it perhaps she'd turn to stone. He rubbed his hands together and sighed loudly. "I am sorry. About your memories. And your hands. And…well, just everything," he rattled on. He looked down to see that Vidari was studying something she cupped in her hands, hidden by her shawl. She mentioned lowly that Bofur had carved it for her. "It's very beautiful, very fine work."

When evening came, it would be Mid-Summer's Eve. And when morning came, the Dwarves would be gone from Rivendell. Bilbo along with them. He tried his best to shake that knowledge from his mind. It only served to make him more uneasy there next to Vidari.

"You should go," she said then. "Before the others eat all the food. This is the last full meal you will all know for quite some time. Go, enjoy it."

Though the guilt ate at him, Bilbo rose, accepting the small hug she gave him, and left. He hurried to get away from that place. The frustration and pity and all of it was stabbing at him.

Passing under the archway, the hobbit stopped, his eyes slowly becoming wide. He breathed out loudly. The thoughts he had collected, the observations, and words showed reason, drifting over his mind like waves. Oin had read the portents…ravens had been seen flying back to the mountain…birds of yore…the raven in her hands…never forgetting, never forgiving…and that song, the one the Dwarves had sung…never forget, never forgive.

Bilbo was in his right mind, and had every intention of moving his feet and going back to the hall with the others—there wouldn't be any fine meals out in the wild. The hobbit should have kept walking. Should have just kept out of the situation. But if he had wanted no part of in any this, well, he should have remained back in the Shire.

Finding some hidden gem of guts or foolishness, Bilbo walked back to her on strained legs, hands clenched. He stopped next to her and rubbed his hands over his vest. He tried to look to Vidari, but the lack of reflection in her eyes shook him. He stared at the floor as he whispered, "The blood. It's in your blood." Bilbo drew a breath and pulled the haste from his tone. "You have to read it to get your memories. But—but there is no telling what will happen. What could happen to you." His brow creased and he looked once more to her. "I'm sorry."

The hobbit rushed from her sight then and Vidari remained sitting there. Staring at the raven of wood she cradled in her hands. Her eyes moved past it the bandages. _Her own blood?_ How could she regain memory from herself when she did not recall any part of the past? It made no sense to her. The blood would hold nothing if she could not remember anything. How could she search when she knew not what she looked for? She had nothing to anchor herself on.

Nothing made any sense to her.

Again her eyes lowered to the raven she held. The thoughts came and went, crashing upon one another. And in it all, only one thing remained.

She was the raven. She could not forget.

**Can't wait to get the next chapter up! Looking forward to it (: **

**So tell me, tell me! What do you all think Vidari is going to do? Will she try the bloodletting on her own? Maybe ask someone to help her? Confront Aramil? I know there wasn't much Thorin in this chapter, his moment is coming up in the next chapter. Promise! **

**And, to begin planning ahead: the main goal is to get this story at least to the end of the film. Long as I manage that by mid-March. But I would like to continue the story and follow along with the book. And there is where my question pops up. **

**We all know what happens at the end and we've all read stories on here where certain characters weren't killed off, or others died instead. So, something that always helps me, is to ask the readers what they DON'T want to see. **

**So do you NOT want to see everyone survive, or not see someone particular die, a particular event, etc.? **

**This will help me figure out if I'm thinking the same as you lot (: Which nearly all the time, I'm spot on with the readers (: **

**Thanks to all for reading! Keep those reviews coming in! **


	7. Kindness And Remembrance

**A/N: Here I was thinking I had this chapter in the bag…and I was so wrong. This one really threw me for a loop, trying to figure the second half out. Hopefully it came out as best as I could get it. Thanks for the reviews and follows and faves! **

**For the reviewer Phoenix, I noticed that thing about the blood reading when I went back over the other chapters today. Glad you pointed it out, I went and changed it up a bit. To answer your wondering, since blood magic was something that any of her kind could do (just not all of them could do it well), it was instinct for Vidari. What wasn't instinct was knowing she could just read her own blood to get her memories back. And on a different note, totally agree with everything in your reviews (: And yes, the film spreads the focal point much wider than in the book. When I read the book, I focused solely on Bilbo, but with the film, I'm trying to juggle focusing on Bilbo, Thorin, Fili, Kili, etc haha. **

The moon would reach its highest point at midnight and then Lord Elrond would be able to read the Moon Runes hidden on Thorin's map. The company was all to bed or sitting quietly in the hall, enjoying a last late meal. They carried on, not giving any hint of their intent to leave before morning. Bilbo had said he would join the few Dwarves still awake, but sat still in his room, at the edge of his bed. Wringing his hands and the crease in his brow ever present.

He hoped he had done the right thing.

He'd seen Aramil in passing once he had left Vidari alone; the man took his fear for sadness over Vidari. The hobbit joined the Dwarves for dinner where many had a cloud of gloom hovering overhead. Bilbo's quiet worry was not questioned. He did not stay long in the hall, feigning tiredness and going back to his room. Though none had questioned him on anything, Bilbo still felt the guilt build upon him.

Thorin told the company to not begin packing until they woke in the early morning; they were to gather their belongings, keep them near. And that it'd be best to sleep in their full gear. It would make preparation in the morning much faster. All were advised to take as much sleep as they could find; they'd have need to put the greatest distance possible between themselves and Rivendell come the morning. The Dwarf frowned when he saw the few that still remained awake as the night crept along. Himself and Balin had not slept, knowing that in a few hours time they'd be joining Lord Elrond and Gandalf to read the map. He could hear as the ones around the fire spoke of Vidari and Aramil. The Dwarf huffed quietly.

He had not gone to say any final words to the woman. He had none to share with her. Her fate did not rest with him. She was still a burden in his eyes, just no longer his burden. Now the Lord Elrond would have to carry her weight. He'd be glad to be gone from that place, gone from her. She had weakened the minds of quite a few of his companions.

Thorin excused himself from Balin's presence, saying he would be in his rooms, waiting for midnight to come. Once he was gone, Balin moved and joined the others round the fire. Some time passed while they ate and talked. As the moon reached its highest point in the sky, Gandalf came, retrieving Balin.

Balin rose from his spot on the ground, dusting his hands off. He looked around the hall. "Where is Master Bilbo? Is he not joining us?" he asked the wizard.

"He is likely tucked away in his room," Gandalf answered. He looked to the other Dwarves. "Ah, Bofur, would you find the hobbit? Tell him to meet us in Lord Elrond's study."

About to bite into a sausage, Bofur nodded with a downturn of his mouth. He tossed the link to Nori at his side and rose, heading out from the hall and to the rooms. A slight squeal came from behind Bilbo's door when he knocked on it. He could hear as the hobbit hastily came to and opened the door. He asked if the hobbit was well before telling him what Gandalf had asked him to relay. Bilbo brushed off his repeat of concern, stepping into the hall and shutting his door. Watching his back retreat, Bofur shrugged and turned away. He passed by Vidari and Aramil's room and paused. He thought of asking if she'd like to join him and others for what remained of the night.

There was something about Dwarves and their belongings. It was not a misconception that they were rather greedy when it came to what was theirs. Yes, they were gladly willing to share what was theirs, but did not take lightly to others helping themselves to what was not given.

Dwarves may not have had the best eyesight, but that only forced them to rely more heavily on their other senses and at the moment Bofur swore he could hear the sound of steel being released from its sheath.

And it came from his room.

Frowning, he took the few steps further and slowly turned the knob on his door. Standing in front of his pack, which rested on a table, was Vidari. She was barefoot and covered only in her shift. She must have crept out from under Aramil's sleeping mind, Bofur thought. The neck to the shift was wide and Bofur could see the harsh lines of the scar she bore on her chest. The glint of metal caught his eye and he saw she held the handle of a blade in her hands. Her grip on it was tight; she did not appear ready to lash out with it or to do herself harm. But still, the sight rattled the Dwarf. He came forward slowly, closing the door.

Before he could say anything, Vidari shook her head strongly. Her eyes wandered to the wall, the one that separated them from the room Aramil slept in. Bofur whispered lowly to her as he continued to come closer.

"What are you doing up?" His question was innocent and gave no hint to the tension he felt, seeing her standing there with the small blade. "You'll sleep right through the morning now, you will. Don't you want to see us off?"

Vidari stepped away from him, her head raised, knife still clutched in her hand. "I know what to do. He told me." She looked down to her hands, covered in bandages. "I can get my memories back. I just have to—I have to…" Her eyes glanced over the blade. "I can know who I am." Bofur still moved towards her. He reached out slowly, his hand reaching for her shoulder, but at the last moment tried to move for her hands. "_It isn't fair!_" she hissed, stepping away. Her eyes widened and she looked to the wall, waiting to hear any movement from Aramil in the other room. "It's not fair." She worried her lower lip, biting at it, as her eyes fell over the floor. Bofur once more stepped towards her; if she moved away again, she'd be left standing on the balcony. She could be spotted. Moving with instinct, Vidari raised her hand that held the blade, its point aimed to the Dwarf. Her brow fell as she saw that he only stood there, hands held up, no fear or anger in his eyes.

"Who told you this, lass?" Bofur asked.

"The hobbit—Bilbo. He said if I read my own blood that the memories will come back." Vidari lowered her head. "But…he doesn't know what will happen." She shook her head, as if she was arguing with an unheard voice. "But I have to. I must know." Her eyes darted to her right. "He knows. And Bilbo. Gandalf and the Elf. They _know _me and won't tell me anything." A manic hope sprang across her face. "Maybe if I do this, then I can come with you. I can see Erebor. I could help." Again she worried her lip. "I just want to know." Vidari raised the knife again, holding it toward Bofur as she circled round him, meaning to leave the room. "I am sorry," she said. "I cannot let you stop me."

She reached the door and chanced to turn her back to him.

"_Wait!_"

She turned and saw the Dwarf coming close to her. He turned to the table and took a wool blanket from his pack. He unrolled it and walked to Vidari, holding it out. "You can't let anyone see you with that," he motioned with his eyes to the blade. Bofur draped the blanket round her shoulders, pulling at the corners, hiding her hands.

Vidari looked up to his eyes, confused. "You would help me?" Though she still held the knife in her grip, hidden under the blanket, the Dwarf steadily wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning her against him. "Please, don't go too far off. I'll wait here." He hoped that she would see the displeasure of having to keep mute about her; he was sure the rest of the company felt the same. Bofur pulled away and watched her.

After a moment, she nodded to the Dwarf.

The kindness was queer to Vidari. While there at Rivendell she had not been a stranger to receiving it, but there had seemed to always be some sort of condition to it. This here now was unconditional. There was only compassion.

"I will not forget your kindness," she spoke quietly.

Bofur nodded, smiling again. "Here, I'll go and make sure the way is clear."

And so he did. When Vidari was gone from the hall he went back into his room, sitting at the table, his ears alert and mind wary. The others would wonder where he was. Perhaps come looking for him. He would make sure they did not stumble across Vidari. Wherever she may be.

She moved quietly and slowly through the halls, her mind unable to heed Bofur's words of staying near. She kept to the shadows as she found her way down one path and then another. Vidari did not know where she was going until she found herself standing before the lady of stone, the shards of the sword before her. She set the waterskin and blade down beside the statue and stepped away. Her head was lowered, as well as her spirit. The moment of hesitation had found her. The blade was very sharp; she wondered how hard she would have to press to break the skin.

For a long while she stood before the unmoving stone. She could not stop questioning what the hobbit had meant when he said he didn't know what would happen to her. What did he know of her? Was she such a terrible thing that the memories would return and cripple her? Swallow her up in darkness. She did not feel _wrong_. A doer of foul deeds. But nor did she feel goodness. The memories could bring her peace or madness. Death even. Is that what the hobbit had meant? The thoughts would lead to her death?

Her fists were clenched tight and the tinge of pain emitted from her palms as the still fresh scar tissue was aggravated. Vidari grimaced, feeling a shaky euphoria fill her, followed by a twisting singe within her core. Her mind became hollow and a flourish of sounds battered their way into her thoughts. She felt every element slash across her skin. Vidari shuddered. Wisps of memories were banging against the barriers. Instinct told her to let them through.

And then the footsteps came. Had Bofur come looking for her? For a small moment, she hoped that such a thing was true.

Instead, her eyes fell onto Thorin. The Dwarf held a map in his hand as he passed through the hall, his head down and brow cold. The twist of Vidari's form to look to him caught his attention. He stopped out in the hallway. She said nothing to him as he looked her over, taking in her appearance. Vidari steeled herself, her fists relaxing and the onslaught upon her mind fading.

She had spoken little to the Dwarf king and he little to her. Though Vidari did not spite him for it. She felt there was an unknown reason for her being unable to. Though she didn't know her reason for understanding Thorin Oakenshield, she still had her instinct. If only she were able to _know_ that instinct. They were two very different things; instinct and knowledge. And being with only one was not easy.

The thought dashed through her mind. What if she lost herself this night? The King Under the Mountain would be the last to see her. The one thing she had, instinct clawed at her to not just stand there.

Thorin was no longer looking to her, continuing down the hall. He would take whatever sleep he could find for what remained of the night. The company had less than four months to reach Erebor or else the hidden passageway would not reveal itself. At seeing Thorin's shadow move away, Vidari found her feet. She rushed out into the hall and called out in a whisper to him. "Where are the others?" Thorin stopped and turned to her. "The other Dwarves. Why did they not come? Why are those twelve the only ones with you?" This last thing she needed to know.

Thorin bit back the small distaste in his mouth. He was curt in his reply. As curt as he was with the Elves. "This quest is not theirs." He thought it to be answer enough, but Vidari shook her head.

"But…you're reclaiming Erebor. Your home. _Their_ home. How could this not be their quest as well?" Vidari looked back into the room where her future lay on the floor. Would she see the morning come, see the company off? She then looked to Thorin. "More should have come." Vidari began to step away, her voice becoming quieter, instinct growing inside her once more. She did not think as the words found their way from her. "They dishonor themselves. They would rather leave the fighting to others. I would have fought. If I knew how, I would have." Thorin could barely hear as Vidari turned back into the room, her voice coming down the hall.

Her words left him confused and slightly taken aback. It was a lie to say he hadn't thought the same. Surely when Erebor was once again home to the line of Durin, the Dwarves of Middle Earth would rush to him, heaping praise after praise upon him. Yet none would acknowledge how they had turned away when he called them to arms.

He left the hall in silence, her small declaration still in his head. It left him uneasy, how with what few words she spoke at any given moment echoed those he kept to himself. He was reminded of what Lord Elrond had said to him; that he and this woman were not so very different. But he wouldn't linger on such thoughts. Vidari was as good as gone, far as he was concerned. Come morning he and the company would leave this place and her behind. Thorin returned to his quarters and began quietly packing. He laid out the gear which he would wear. He left then, going to the hall where the others had been gathered, making sure that none were still there. He found the large hall empty.

Rivendell was otherworldly quiet at night, the stonewalls breathing in every noise not made by nature. Thorin could hear the creak of the trees in the wind, sway of grass, and fall of water upon stone all around him. It is not enough to say that the cries he then heard pierced him to his very core. He knew Bofur's voice instantly. Stilling for a mere second, Thorin rushed through the hall. As he reached the rooms, others had been woken by the cries. Dwalin was quick to burst from behind his door, moving across the hall to where Bofur slept. But when the door was harshly pushed back, the toymaker was not to be found.

The cries rose again. "Gandalf!" At Bofur's call, all stilled, trying to determine where the Dwarf was. It was not until Aramil stepped out from his room, eyes wide and filled with fear, that Thorin knew where Bofur was to be found.

"Where's Vidari?" Kili asked, not seeing her within the room or in the hall with them.

Thorin did not spare Aramil another glance before hurrying from the hallway, the company not far behind. Some stopped, calling out to Bofur, trying to locate him, but Thorin did not. He made for one certain room.

Elves were gathered near the entrance. Someone from within ushered them away as the company approached. Not all could find the will to pass the threshold when their eyes settled on the sight before them. Gandalf and Lord Elrond stood at either side of the room, speaking softly in unknown words to the form that wrung and twisted on the floor in a quiet agony. "Stay back!" the wizard warned the company. He stepped slowly to the center of the room, a hand reached out. He rested it upon Bofur's shoulder. The Dwarf knelt on the ground before Vidari, tentatively stretching for her while Gandalf kept him away.

Her body was strewn across the stone floor, a growing pool of crimson before her. The bandages on her left hand were discarded. She rested it, palm downward, in the thick blood. She clutched the small blade in her other hand, beating it against the stone with each passing moment. She never cried out. Never whimpered or howled as she gasped and choked with every breath she fought for. She wrung and twisted her body, but her hand remained planted firmly against the floor, slicked with red. The blood soaked into the fabric of her shift and tinted her skin. She looked as if she had been pulled from a battle. Vidari could only faintly hear the Dwarves speaking, wanting to know what was happening. The memories were returning, each one like an edgy, dull knife that tore its way through her insides, gashing its way out of her. With every one what came back, the shadow grew in her eyes and the company before her faded.

"Gandalf!" pleaded Kili, being held back by his brother, just as he held Fili back. "Do something! Can you not help her?"

"She suffers! End it," begged Fili. He looked behind to Aramil, who had remained in the hallway. "Won't you do something?"

Gandalf looked to the company as he pulled Bofur away. "She must see this to the end on her own." Vidari hissed, pulling herself up to her knees and doubling over. "Her memories return." The wizard turned to Lord Elrond, his gaze moving then moving to Balin, Thorin, Aramil. Bilbo. The wizard sighed quietly.

Elrond spoke to Gandalf and Thorin waited to hear the words repeated in the Common Tongue. "They should not be here." The wizard nodded and held his arms out, urging the company back out into the hall, back to their rooms.

Vidari began to gasp, crumbling to her side. Her free hand reached behind her, grasping at some unseen object. She twisted from side to side. The outcry from the company was quieted as they saw the stain of red forming along her back. And then her hand covered her side, it too now stained with blood. Aramil rushed forward, falling to his knees before Vidari. He called out to her, bending lower and twisting his head to see her face.

"You must fight it!" he urged. "You're nearly there!" He whispered the last words again as he saw the trail of copper slide over her neck as she lied on her side, clutching at her chest.

The fight against her own body ceased and the hand that was harsh and rigid in the blood softened. Vidari curled in on herself and exhaled. Gandalf and Elrond looked cautiously upon her. Aramil turned round to them, rising to one knee.

"Ori, no!" The older Dwarf called out to his brother, but Dori could not grab him in time.

Ori slipped past them all, barely missing Aramil's grasp and fell to his knees behind Vidari. He did not hesitate to reach out and shake her shoulder, trying to pry her arms away from her head. He grabbed her hand and rubbed and patted it. "Vidari? Vidari, wake up. Wake up." The Dwarf leaned over her and stopped his speaking the moment her eyes opened. He looked up to Aramil who was beckoning him to get away from her. She had not gripped his hand and so he let it slip from hers as he stood and moved back.

Vidari pushed herself up, her hair hanging limp from the blood that soaked it. She raised her left hand, staring into the cuts across her palm. Her voice came, just vaguely familiar to the others. It was filled of smoke and jagged steel. There was no comfort to it. "What have you done?" She asked, rising from the floor, clutching her stomach. She bent over and as she tried to straighten, her eyes rose over Aramil. A wretched hate filled her. "What have you done to me?" she demanded. "What have you done to me!" Vidari pulled herself up, planting her back against the wall.

Aramil started to rise from the floor. "What needed to be done," he said, stopping when Vidari held up the small knife still clutched in her hand.

She twisted the blade in the air, looking past him to the others. The void that had hovered over her face for the past two weeks was gone. Replaced by a growing hatred and understanding. Vidari turned her head quickly to Elrond. To the wizard. Even Balin. She scowled. "How dare you lie to me, all of you!" Vidari looked to Thorin, her head raised. She said nothing to him. Her eyes turned away. The others looked frightened of her, though none looked away when her eyes found them. She pressed her palm to her side, taking in a right breath. "Leave me," she said coldly. Her head lowered, her eyes still raised, like a predator, watching everyone around her. She glanced to her right, to Lord Elrond.

At his slow movements, the others began to back away. Aramil was the last to leave the room, his head hung. He did not show her his back until he was in the hallway.

Vidari stood still with a stiffness, staring into the hallway. When no sound could be heard, she came forward to the blood collected on the floor and stared into it. The fabric of the shift stuck to her skin, slick with blood. She recalled each wound. The one on her back came from the rider that took her down. The blade of an axe. The one, there, at her side, from a longsword. The same blade had been aimed at her throat, but she'd moved away; it only grazing her skin, but still drawing blood. And her chest, torn open with a mace. She should have died from such wounds. Vidari peered down to her chest, seeing the splayed out scars seeping with blood. As if they had been reopen, just as the ones on her palm. They would think her a god. Immortal. Losing so much blood and yet still standing. But she knew the truth behind it. She _remembered_.

Vidari moved quietly on her bare feet to the hall, staring at everything with a black look. It was all familiar and foreign to her now. She stopped, hearing voices, as she reached the hall of rooms. Turning her head from side to side, she moved on, going to her own room. She knew Aramil would not be in there; he'd be off, speaking with the wizard and Elf. Making their next plan. Vidari scowled at the thought.

She walked to the large basin of water and plunged her hands into it, removing the bandages from her right hand. She watched as the color returned to her skin and the water turned a pale red. Vidari looked around the room, the scowl still on her face. Lied to, to keep her safe, she thought. She detested all of them.

Her eyes lingered on the table, the bloodied blade resting on it. The scowl fell from her lips and she scrubbed harder at her hands, looking away from that knife.

She remembered a kindness.

Someone knocked on the door and the scowl was back. There was whispering and another knock came, this time heavier. More whispering. As she approached the door and began to pull it open, she caught dark hair disappearing behind another door as it closed. Before her stood the hobbit. He looked about to run, his body twitching with worry, but his feet not unmoving.

"We didn't want to," Bilbo said, wringing his hands as he often did. "The others…I couldn't say anything to them. They wouldn't let me."

"Who?" she asked, suddenly and harshly. She lowered her head only slightly to him. He looked away for a moment, her voice cruel in his ears.

Bilbo told her those who'd meet in Elrond's study, to decide what would be done with her. His shoulders shook and he looked behind him, to the door that had closed. "We didn't want to," he repeated. Bilbo held up his hand.

Vidari turned away, leaving the door open, and retrieved the blade from the table. She came back, taking Bilbo's hand in her own. She watched his face, head tilted, as she pricked the tip of his finger. She squeezed the blood out, wiping it up with her thumb. Bilbo stepped away and waited as she rubbed the blood between her fingers, eyes closed while she sifted through the memories. Her brow furrowed.

"You wanted to say something…" she said. "You didn't want to lie." Vidari turned away again, going to the table and sitting down slowly. She still sifted through the memories, songs and portents coming to her.

Bilbo remained standing at the threshold, watching as Vidari's face fell from anger to somberness. She did not see him back away, to the door that had closed. When she opened her eyes, Vidari looked over the room, the corners of her mouth falling. She rose and went to the hallway, but Bilbo was not there. She held her hand up, the blood dried and staining her fingertips now. The knife felt heavy now at her side. Closing the door, she walked to the basin of water and washed off the blade. She set it down and looked to the wooden chest.

When Aramil came finally to the room, Vidari sat there, atop the chest. Her elbows rested against her knees, hands clasped and covered in fresh bandages. Her wounds still bled, every one of them, but all were wrapped and bound tightly. She raised her head as he entered and watched as he crossed the room slowly, coming to stand before her. She spoke first.

"What is your plan for me now?" She did not give him the chance to answer. She scoffed quietly. "Surely the Elf will not want me here now, I am…unstable now. The things I could do. And I doubt the Dwarf king has had a change of heart. Would prefer I remained back in that troll cave. But I can't go back there either, can I? I _am _awake now. Only one way to go back to that sleep, isn't there?" Vidari sat up, picking at the edges of her bandages. Aramil's eyes settled on the dark raven strewn across her chest and then he looked away.

The bloodied shift was discarded on the floor before her. She sat there, in all black. The thin armour she had been wearing when found was tossed behind her on the bed. She wore a dark tunic cut closely to her skin that fell nearly to her knees. The fabric covered the scar across her chest. Over it was a bodice, which the raven was engraved upon, its feathers falling down over the expanse of the leather. Vidari adjusted the vambraces on her arms. Her hair was wet and hung loose over her shoulders.

"Go," she said. "Get what we will need." She eyed him and Aramil nodded. He turned to the table and reached out for the knife after a moment. He turned back to Vidari, but she shook her head. "You are your father's son." She cast her eyes to the floor. "It can't be helped." With resignation, Aramil set the blade down and left the room, moving through the halls in stealth.

Before morning came, Balin went to every room, waking the Dwarves and Bilbo. When he reached Bofur's door, he knocked and stuck his head in. The Dwarf was already awake, sitting on his bed, fully dressed and ready to leave. Balin saw the blade that rested in his open hands. He recognized it and gave Bofur a sympathetic smile. "Guess she snuck in…" Bofur said. He'd found it setting next to his pack on the table. Balin said nothing in return, leaving the room and moving along. Fili and Kili were staring at the door that went to Vidari's room. But neither came forward. One by one, the company either stared or walked past the door.

The company traversed through the valley in the dim light, always turning round to look back down upon Rivendell. Dori pulled Ori along, the young one stopping and watching. Hoping to see someone coming. Bilbo walked with Bofur; the group was spaced out as they climbed upwards. The hobbit noted the weakened aura about the Dwarf. He walked with his mattock over his shoulder. Anytime he did not have to use his free hand to balance against the growing stones in the valley, Bilbo saw how his hand would go to his belt, to the small knife that was nestled there. Bofur looked back to make sure the hobbit was able to navigate around a jagged rock that reached out from the earth, seeing him staring at the blade. Bofur did his best to smile.

"It was for the best," Bilbo said, trying to reassure him that aiding her was not a mistake. It was to reassure himself, too.

The hobbit looked back, wishing that, at the very least, Gandalf had come with them. There was a somber cloud over the company, many with thoughts of Vidari in mind. Gandalf would have told them to stop dragging their heads, said something about the stubbornness of Dwarves and so on. Gotten them back on their feet. But those words would have to wait till the group reached the mountains. The wizard would rejoin them then. He had to stay back in Rivendell, for whatever reason. Bilbo wasn't privy to it, nor anyone else. But Gandalf said he'd meet with them again in the mountains.

Thorin led the company over the path that twisted its way up the valley. He looked behind to make sure no one else had stopped. He saw the hobbit looking back as he moved along. "Balin," Thorin called out. "You know these paths. Lead the way." The older Dwarf came forward, nodding his head as he passed by Thorin.

Thorin stood in his spot, letting the others go past. Kili paused for a moment, reaching the zenith of the path. Thorin called his name and the young Dwarf hung his head, continuing on to his uncle, Fili behind him. It was tricky, navigating the decline of the valley as they came out on the other side. Many were paired up as they made their way down. Bilbo walked behind Bofur, who used his mattock to steady himself. The hobbit was very unsure of his footing. He had to look ahead, which meant he was looking down, and looking down did not sit well with him. Made his stomach uneasy and had him wishing he hadn't stuffed his face full with food before leaving the halls of Lord Elrond. Bombur was slow moving as well; Bofur slowed down and waited for his brother to reach him. He helped both him and Bilbo down. Bifur stopped as well, waiting for them and helping Bofur watch the other two.

Bilbo began muttering about the stupid rocks that wouldn't just stay put in the ground, but instead had to roll away under his feet each time he stepped on one.

"Well kick them out of your way then!" Bofur said with a small laugh. He turned to take a few steps more down. "That's it! Curse you rock!" he said mockingly as one bounced down past him.

"I didn't…."

At his words, the other three stopped moving. Bilbo grasped onto the branch of a tree that hung low and looked behind. His breath caught as he saw two blacked figures coming down behind him, their steps sure and of a steady pace. Their hoods were drawn up, but one wore a sleeveless coat, black feathers bouncing about at their neck.

Knowing that they were now in sight of the company, Vidari pushed back her hood. Aramil walked behind her, a hand stretched out slightly to her, ready to grab her should she lose her balance. Bifur called out something in ancient Dwarvish and the others looked up to see the two.

Vidari looked to all their faces, seeing uncertainty in their eyes. She reached Bilbo, who had not moved. She did not stop moving, only slowed, reaching a hand out to him and resting it on his shoulder. Her grip urged him on. Her steps were faster than his and she came to Bofur's side, head down as she watched her footing. Aramil fell behind, helping the hobbit down. She knew the others were watching and waiting for her to say something, so she spoke lowly. She rested a hand upon Bofur's shoulder and he gripped her arm to offer more balance.

"Thank you, for your kindness." Bofur smiled and nodded, keeping his eyes before him.

When they had all reached the bottom of the other side of the valley, golden fields before them, the rest of the group parted as Thorin came forward. Vidari stood her ground as he stepped to her. If anything, she actually raised her head higher to him. She spoke before he had a chance to open his mouth.

"You have your reasons for going to the mountain and I have mine. My contract is not with you, but with the wizard." Her voice was calm, the harshness and mistiness still about it. She looked off over the fields that rolled ahead, rising and falling. "We'll scout ahead." Vidari looked behind. "Aramil, to me."

"Well," Bofur pondered aloud, much to the dislike of Bilbo. "Least now our chances of getting roasted by Smaug are smaller. Two more in the pot!"

**So tell me, tell me, what did you guys think of that!? **

**Next chapter will span the time it takes the company to reach the mountains, so there'll be plenty of space for adding new things in, especially now since the group practically has to get to re-know Vidari. So here's this week's question: Now that you guys have a little taste of the "real" Vidari, how do you think she will interact with particular members of the company and vice versa? **

**I'll try my best to get a new chapter up Friday. The more reviews I get with awesomeness in them, the more fuel I'll have for writing up the next chapter (: **


	8. One More Fight

**Yes! Finished this with 58 minutes to spare. Still counts as Friday! Ha! **

The company did not know whether to keep quiet or crush Vidari in their arms. Did not know whether to be joyful that she was there, going with them to Erebor or to be wary. What stood before them was not the Vidari they had known just the morning prior.

Vidari looked up the valley that rose behind them. She turned her eyes to Thorin. "The Elves will know we have gone soon. We should not stop for rest till nightfall. Gandalf said he would give us as much time as possible, but could not promise the Elves would not follow." The words could have easily come from Thorin and it would have been a command. Coming from Vidari, there was authority in her tone, yet a yielding sense as well. She waited upon Thorin and he took a moment to look over the company. When he nodded to Balin to continue on leading the group, only then were Vidari's words given weight. Given his superiority.

Vidari turned away, moving through the company. She stopped as she came up to Ori, looking down at the Dwarf. "Good morning, Ori," she said with a small nod and smile.

The young Dwarf smiled brightly and repeated the sentiment before Vidari and Aramil continued on. The latter stopped to ask Balin of the terrain they'd be crossing. He bobbed his head and kept moving along. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, Aramil settled his eyes on Thorin for a moment.

"He took that well," he commented. "Still, I don't think he's begun to like us yet."

Vidari scoffed, adjusting the straps to her pack on her shoulders. "_Well_, I think, is too kind a word. I'm sure if I turn around now, he's whispering of us to Balin." She didn't have to turn around, the small chuckle from Armail proved her words true.

"There'll be questions soon enough," Armail said with a sigh. He was not looking forward to the night. Someone amongst the company would get that itch in their head and ask the first question.

Vidari said, in a heavy tone, "I know."

"Will you tell them? Everything, I mean." He hoped to hear only one answer.

Vidari looked over her shoulder, the distance between them and the company lengthening. "Doesn't matter if they are Dwarves, Elves or mice or bits of dirt, telling them would only fill them with avarice. Even if they ask, there are ways around the truth."

They fell into a silence and continued on. Aramil cursed the ground that tried so hard to grab and twist at his feet, the patches of dried, winding weeds hidden within the grass. He was nearly ready to pull out his sword and hack away at the ground. Looking up to Vidari, who walked a few steps ahead of him, he saw that she was having no issue traversing about.

He thought back on what had been said between the two of them hours prior, when he'd returned to the room with restocked supplies for a quest that wasn't their own.

Vidari did not rise from her perch on the chest until he had returned. Aramil had snuck into the kitchens, taking what food he could. As he moved back down the halls, he had seen the wizard. Gandalf needed only to look to what he carried in his arms to know that Vidari intended to leave and follow Thorin Oakenshield. He told Aramil to follow after him, taking him to the Elven armoury. When Aramil returned to their room, he relayed Gandalf's message of haste; to get as much distance between them and Rivendell.

"He says he will distract them long as he can. There is some other matter that has Lord Elrond's attention, but in a few hours he will know." Vidari nodded to Aramil's words, standing and going to the table where he set the supplies down.

The two stuffed their packs to their fullest, picking over the small things here and there that had been taken from the armoury. Aramil handed her a rolled up hooded cloak and Vidari fastened it round her neck. She saw the slight crease between Aramil's eyes as he looked past her to the armour that was still laid on the bed.

"We take only what's needed," Vidari told him. She grabbed her sword, tying the belt around her waist, picking a small blade and its sheath from the table, tucking it away in one of her boots.

With a last look to the armour on her bed, Aramil discarded his own. He grabbed at his hair and pulled back as much as was long enough, securing it back. Stray hairs fell back about his face, the curls swaying with his head. Aramil turned to Vidari when he knew he had nothing left to do except walk out that door with her, and saw her pulling the front of her hair back.

He looked away, head and eyes slightly lowered. "You know I will not argue your decisions. But you don't have to do this. You owe them nothing. We could…" Aramil shook his head. "Everyone is gone, they're all dead and you owe none of them anything anymore. You don't have to keep fighting. The war is over."

She had been waiting for him to say these things. To remind her that she could make another choice. As many choices as she wanted. Vidari rested her palm over the pommel of her sword, cherishing the comfort it brought her empty hand. "The fight is all I know. You as well," she countered, voice lingering like a ghost. "Your father saw to that. We were never going to die, wrinkled and withered, in our beds. If our deaths are waiting, they're somewhere out there," she said, looking out the balcony.

"Still one more fight left in us, then?" Aramil asked with an unenthusiastic smirk. He tapped the table as he picked up his sword and fastened the belt. Reaching for his pack, he said, "I am sorry, for my father. For what he did to you." He did not look to her as he adjusted the pack on his back and glanced over the room, making sure nothing had been forgotten. "If I had not been weak, he'd have had no use for you. It would have been me instead."

All Vidari could say to him was, "I know." There was no contempt in her tone. She nodded to him, and Aramil led the way out from the room, the two moving quietly through the halls. He had watched from cover as the Dwarves left, noting the path they took through the valley. Neither brought discussion up again concerning their shared past. Knowing it would fail to bring either any peace and knowing once they met with the company of Thorin Oakenshield again, the past would have need to be brought up. There was no need in repeating their words.

Thorin walked with Balin at the head of the group, his eyes trailing up to the backs of Vidari and Aramil every chance he had. A scowl was set on his lips. When he'd seen them coming down from the valley, he wanted to bark at them to turn around. This was not their quest. He had no need for either of them. Their place was not amongst him and his company. If at all possible, he wanted them there less than he did the hobbit.

But Thorin, King Under the Mountain, could not weaken himself with such an outburst. Much as the wizard tried him, he had managed to not cause such a scene when Gandalf went meddling about as wizards are prone to do. He would not allow himself to be outraged by Vidari and Aramil. He would do with her as he always had with Gandalf; he would have words with her. He would expose her before the rest of the company. Test her. If she were a threat to the safety of his men, he'd have them all know it.

"Gandalf would not have let her come if he thought it unwise," Balin said from Thorin's side as the two led the company. The older Dwarf knew Thorin's temper and that it had been tested enough as it was with the hobbit. To have these two with them now would only further press him. Balin would have to do what he could to make sure things did not come to a head between Thorin and the woman. Aramil, he was not worried about; the male was subservient to Vidari. "We are two _stronger_ now. That cannot be argued."

Thorin said nothing on the matter, looking ahead over the fields and hills. He could not see Vidari and Aramil, but he still had to hear of them. The company behind him talked in low voices and some of their words reached his ears. There was worry in their tones. Concern. And a muted excitement that left Thorin unpleased. The company's distraction was back.

The talk faded off as the morning began to pass; no sign of Vidari and Armail had been seen. Ori's worry infectious to Dori, the older Dwarf worried if they may have wandered off in the wrong direction. Fili and Kili had tried walking ahead, but in passing their uncle, Thorin called them back. He said he would not have them wandering off on their own.

"But what of Vidari and Aramil?" asked Kili. His uncle gave no answer. Fili pulled his younger brother back and stayed with the company.

Bilbo voiced his worry to Bofur, who had stayed at his side thus far on their journey. "You don't think they're really lost, do you?"

Bofur smiled. "Course not." He lowered his voice and nodded to the front of the group. As in the valley, the company was spread out, but still, best not to be overheard and start a talk that traveled the whole of the line. "We'll reach the Lonely Mountain and he'll still not be happy that they're coming with us," he said in reference to Thorin.

The hobbit felt a stab of guilt and worry at the words. He bent his head down. "I'm the reason she came in the first place." Bilbo could see the side glance that Bofur shot his way.

"I know that." Bofur's bright face fell a bit. "You told her what to do."

But Bilbo shook his head. "No. Well, yes, I did. But…afterwards, I'm not quite sure she liked any of us. And they," he said with a glance up to Fili and Kili, "were insistent that I do something about it." Wasn't the first time they had shoved him headfirst into something. He needed to remember to keep away from those two. Bilbo looked down to the small nick on his finger. Looking back up, he saw that Bofur saw the cut as well and he nodded, understanding what the hobbit had done. "Just…wanted her to know we hadn't meant anything by it. Suppose she saw that." Wanting the talk away from him, Bilbo peered down to the blade at Bofur's side. "I take it, you helped her as well?" The Dwarf nodded. "Probably best not to let anyone find out then." He said the words while looking up towards the front of the company.

It wasn't until some time after lunch had passed that the company reached the end of the rolling hills and was greeted with fairly flat fields far as the eye could see. It was also the time when they were finally greeted with the sight of Vidari and Aramil. They were only two blurry figures, beside a slithering rope of blue. The group could see all around them, any sign of a threat would be quickly noticed. Thorin did not bother to stop his nephews as they quickened their pace at his mention of a short break. When they had come to the end of the hills, he'd looked behind, seeing no Elves. Gandalf must have bought them the time that was needed. Thorin bit back a scoff, thinking that Lord Elrond had likely decided to not stop them, certain the dragon would be the death of them, if not the Wild itself.

Balin had told Aramil that they were to travel straight until the hills were behind them and then make north across the flat plains. They'd come across a river; the company would follow it into the mountains where they'd wait for Gandalf to rejoin them.

Vidari sat on the ground, one knee bent while she rested her arm across it. Aramil stood before a rather small fire; it barely gave off any smoke and the wood appeared to be stacked upside down compared to any regular fire. Nestled atop the little fire was a petite black pan, two grey fish sizzling and popping.

Aramil looked to his right, to the edge of the hills. "They've found us."

Vidari looked up from peeling back the bandages on her hands. She stared for some time, trying to pick out each member of the company. Spotting Bombur was easy enough. Bilbo's coat made him quick to single out. Bofur's hat gave him away as he walked alongside the hobbit. Out of the others, Fili and Kili were the first she was able to make out. Not far behind them came Ori.

Kili fought the urge to yell out at Vidari. As he and his brother were almost upon her, Kili closed the gap by running right up to her the moment he saw her stand up. He could see the corner of her mouth twitch up. He knew his uncle had his eyes trained rigidly on him, but Kili did not worry; Fili would share the scorn with him. Dropping his pack to the ground, the younger brother smiled widely. He knew there was nothing to worry of; Vidari would be of no threat to him or Kili or anyone in the company. The moment he had spotted her coming after them in the valley he knew that there was nothing to fear. She wasn't angry with them, wasn't going to lash out at them. If she despised them for keeping secrets, she would have stayed put in Rivendell.

He didn't hesitate to stretch his arms out and pull Vidari into a lasting hug. Vidari chuckled softly into his coat, looking over his shoulder to Fili. "I knew you wouldn't stay put, I knew it," Kili told her as he pulled back. His smile fell quickly when he saw how Vidari rested a hand over her side, quick to apologize. Fili came and stood beside him, eyes stern as he looked her over.

Vidari smiled, lifting her head and exposing her neck. Across it was a fine red line. "I am fine."

Kili stared at her neck and then another panic came to him. "Your back!" he said, coming forward and turning her round. "Oh, Vidari, I—are you alright?"

Again, Vidari said that she was fine. The brothers looked to Aramil. "She's fine," he told them, turning the fish over in the small pan.

"Gandalf wouldn't have let her come if she wasn't," Fili then said. Vidari tilted her head and gave him a faint nod. Mindful of himself, the older brother embraced her, keeping his arms around her waist. He pulled away and smiled as Ori joined them, the rest of the company not far behind him.

Ori was much too happy to even manage a hug; he stood there before her, telling Vidari how glad he was she would be joining them. He'd never seen Erebor before, just like her. It would be exciting to see it with her, they could go exploring in the library once Smaug was gone.

Vidari turned to Fili as Ori moved away to give a greeting to Aramil. "Are we going to keep moving?" she asked. He shook his head.

"A short break."

Vidari walked to Aramil, turning her back to the rest of the company, who had nearly reached them. She had looked to them, giving a small smile. She knew not all would come and greet her, so there was no point in just standing there looking like a lost dog. She crouched beside the small fire as Aramil began picking the meat from the fish, discarding the bones. Seeing the way the three Dwarves eyed them, she jerked her head to the fire and they wasted no time in sitting down around it. Aramil rose, saying he would catch more fish for them, removing himself from the others. Vidari patted Kili's shoulder, who was sitting beside her, and rose from her crouch to go and join Aramil.

She watched from the waterside while Aramil stood as far into the river as he dared, a small net in his hands. He leaned forward, elbows planted firmly against his knees, watching the water as it streamed past. When he looked up, eyes moving past her, Vidari knew the others had approached.

They could be heard, slinging their packs to the ground. Bombur was saying something to Fili and Kili. Gloin came forward, supplying some of his own firewood. Those little flames wouldn't be enough for the lot of them. At the crunch of the ground under foot, Vidari waited to see who was coming up behind her.

In their own time, nearly all the Dwarves came to stand beside Vidari, watching while Aramil caught fish in the net. Bombur stood eagerly at the edge of the water, taking the fish from him and walking over to the fire. Fili, Kili, and Ori had been the most expressive of the company, being the youngest. The others did not make anywhere near the same scene as they had when acknowledging Vidari and Aramil. They could see the difference in her as she stood there beside the river. There was something that made her unapproachable in a way. An enigma. That was still Vidari who stood there, but she wasn't unsure anymore. While the others weren't certain of her place in the group now, she knew where it was and it showed in the way she held herself.

The company broke off into small groups, sitting around near the river and eating. Vidari was not surprised to see an empty spot beside Bofur where he sat with Bilbo, his brother, and cousin. She sat at his side and space was made for Aramil to join.

During the short rest Vidari waited to hear him call her out. But Thorin never spoke her name. She could feel at times that he watched her. As the group prepared to carry on, she saw him speaking with Dwalin and Balin. Their eyes glanced to her a few times. When it came time for the group to move, she and Aramil were ready to scout ahead again. But Dori insisted that they stay with the company. Traveling out there on the plains, why, if unwelcome eyes spotted them, they would be on their own. It was better that they stick together. It appeared to Vidari that the Dwarf was spreading his fussing about; Ori was most grateful. When others in the company—Bofur, Fili, Kili, and Oin—agreed, Vidari did not accept. She searched for Thorin. He stood away from the company, with Dwalin, ready to leave. His eyes darted to Balin for a moment. "We stick together," he said.

Vidari nodded, looking away from him.

She and Aramil walked with Bofur and Bilbo. She did not mention the actions of either in Rivendell. She listened as Aramil asked the hobbit of the Shire. Ori was accommodating, showing him sketches he had done as he and his brothers traveled through Hobbiton. Vidari kept her head down as she walked at Bofur's side. She'd look up to the front of the group, seeking out Thorin. He never remained in the same spot within the company as they moved. At first he would be at front, then he'd slip behind. And his eyes were always watching. He looked ahead of them and all around them, always wary.

He never slipped far enough back to her though. She had thought he would. That he'd give her a quiet stare and she'd know to fall back to the very end of the company with him and listen to whatever he had to say. That moment never came. Vidari was aware of what he was doing. Biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to speak up. And she knew to let him take it.

The moment came as the company stopped short of dusk. They had reached the point in the horizon that hours ago had been far off. The mountains in the distance were still shrouded in cloud, but now were just a bit bigger. Ahead of them, the deep rise and fall of the land had returned. The dirt and grass of the earth began to retreat, showing the grey juts of stone that would now slowly rise up to the mountains off ahead of them. A small valley settled between hills was chosen for the night camp. Bombur set about preparing a stew for them while the others either rested or ventured a small ways off. Vidari remained behind with Aramil, knowing Thorin was watching them.

With a nudge from Aramil, Vidari began to shrug out of her outer layers. She sat down on the ground, opposite Aramil, who first inspected her hands. He changed the bandages. She could feel eyes on her as she removed her bodice. Aramil retrieved a jar of salve from his pack and lifted the back of her tunic.

The time it took to tend to her wounds was short, but Vidari knew that everyone in the company had seen her skin and the markings that covered it. They were of black ink, thick, and followed the lines and curves of her muscles. If there was anything they could be compared to, it would have been Dwarven markings, but from long past time; archaic.

Vidari replaced her bodice and coat, not looking to anyone around her. When it came time that the stew was ready, Bombur and Bofur called for everyone to come and collect their share of it. Bofur had just finished handing Bilbo his bowl when he grabbed the next empty one, ready to fill it and take it over to Vidari. He turned and saw Aramil standing there. He took it and one bowl for himself back to where Vidari sat on the ground, the fire lighting half her face.

The company was quiet. And Vidari knew what came next.

Thorin stood beside the fire, taking his own bowl from Bombur's outstretched hand. He came around to the side that Vidari sat in front of and looked down on her, eyes hooded. He asked, "How did you come across those markings?" Perhaps the longest sentence he had said to her thus far.

To bring such attention on someone hardly seemed kind, but one would have never guessed from the unpretentious way Vidari's sat there and the way she stared down into her bowl as she answered in a plain voice.

"They were given to me, so that others would know what I was." No one needed ask what she was; she answered their minds' question. "A slave."

**Bam! How dare I end the chapter right there! Haha. I will try to get the next one posted either Monday or Tuesday. **

**Now, next chapter is going to be a downpour of info on Vidari. And Aramil. So, the question is, how would you guys prefer to read it? As just one big chapter of Vidari (and Aramil when needed) telling the company about their past? As a combination of what I did with Balin and his stories? Or as entirely in third person? **

**I was leanining towards doing it as I did with Balin and his stories, that way it isn't always an onslaught of dialogue, and also it would allow the chance for the others in the company to pipe up and say or ask things here and there. **

**So let me know what you guys think! And keep those reviews coming in, even if it's just to yell at me to write more faster haha. Reviews are my muses (: **


	9. Bringer Of Death

**Apologies for the delay! Took a lot of thinking to get this chapter done since we learn about Vidari's past. **

If the others weren't fully paying attention, they were now after Thorin's question to Vidari. And her reply to him. "It was…a necessity," she said. Those in the company still without bowls quickly took them from Bombur and Bofur, sitting wherever they could find a spot of decent earth.

"I thought you were a queen," said Thorin. He knew that saying this would be too much for the others to not act on. They'd ask questions and wouldn't stop asking them; because he wouldn't step in to end it. Thorin would know who traveled with him to Erebor.

At the title Vidari raised her head and met his eyes, for only a moment. The steeliness in them showing that she had been raised with ever the constant whisper in her ear that she was something more than those around her. She was meant for something greater.

Kili could not keep quiet. "We didn't know you were a queen!" he exclaimed, his change in demeanor showing shock and a bit of embarrassment.

Vidari gave a brutish smile. "Neither did I."

"So…" started Fili, "which way was it, were you slave or queen first?"

Vidari did not look at any one Dwarf for very long, her eyes drifting away from them to the ground or some vacant space before her, coming to rest upon another in the company for a short moment. She turned the bowl in her hands, sipping from it slowly.

"I was an orphan first. Then a ward. Lived behind the same stonewalls as him," she said with a tip of her head to Aramil.

"Raised as my sister," he added in a quiet voice that hinted at some unknown guilt.

She called him Father, though she was told from a young age that she had no parents. No true family. The king had taken that away from her and from many others. At the time of Vidari and Aramil's births, things were not well and as they grew there was no improvement. It was not that there were foreign people pillaging the lands. There was no great winter or harsh summer that ruined the crops. No plague crept under wooden doors and stonewalls, stealing lives in the night. It was in the passing of the crown from father to son that lands were pillaged, crops ruined, and a plague of bloodied steel set upon the people.

Mirdruk had not always been an odious king. His day of coronation was not a dismal affair. In the months that followed his ascent to the throne, a sickness took him and afterwards, he was never the same.

Vidari and Armail had only ever heard tales from Father's retainers of Mirdruk's early rule. "No one ever told the same tale," Vidari said with a shake of her shoulders from a quiet chuckle. "The only bits that ever stuck were…he took to spells of fainting. Sometimes he wouldn't wake for days. Those in his council ran the kingdom while he hid away."

Father had told them that for almost two months, no one knew whether the king was living or dead.

"And then, the people discovered he was alive," said Aramil. "He summoned the lords and called them to arms. Mirdruk King had decided he no longer cared for our neighbors to the east."

The men went to fight, while the women and children were left to maintain a kingdom. Easy pickings for lawless men that came out from the valleys and mountains. Not only had Mirdruk called on his lords, but their own personal guard. There were too few that remained behind to manage the lands.

"He took all the defenses with him?" ask Gloin, gawking at the sheer lack of sense.

Vidari raised her brow in irony. "Took? No. He sent them. Mirdruk remained behind his tall walls of stone."

It was how her true father had died. In service to an absent king. The lands were separated by a great mountain range. Very few ever dared to cross over them; there were few safe paths to take. The king's army had been defeated after almost 200 days of fighting. It was during their retreat on the mountain paths that Vidari's father was taken down by a rockslide, dragged down the mountain to some dark and broken death.

The mountains could only be seen in shadow at the horizon, but still Vidari looked upon them with a vacant face. It was difficult to feel anything for one she'd never known.

"Father returned," continued Aramil, "and bore the news to her mother. A month later, Vidari was born. Father brought her home, said she was to be my sister."

Ori, in his quiet voice, asked how then Vidari had gone from the ward of a lord to a slave. As she spoke, Aramil became uncomfortable there at her side. He shifted his weight away from her, turned his head away.

The suffering of the people continued to grow after the failed war. Restoration of the kingdom, of the crown, was too far out of reach. Only the great houses could keep their heads above the raging waters. Turned their eyes from the people they walked on. Rebellions began to spread, but they were all drowned.

"We lived far from the king and Father was the most seasoned lord in the south. It was no surprise when the others began coming to him." Vidari lowered her head for a moment, glancing to Aramil. "We were no match for the king's army, divided people. What we needed were proper fighters."

There had barely been a discussion on the matter; Armail was the son of a lord and she an orphan. People would have gossiped if suddenly the lord's son was seen in the practice yard with many new faces around him everyday. Even if gossip was not an issue, what could be learned in the practice yard was of little worth. Nothing more than play for grown men. Slashing about with wooden and blunted swords did not make soldiers, fighters. It was being out on the battlefield with your life surely on the line. Aramil could not go to such a place.

And so Vidari was sent to the pits.

A sad frown pulled at Bilbo's face and he found himself uninterested in eating. Nori looked unsteadily at his boots, while Bofur turned away, still standing at the fire.

"There were two sorts of slaves. Those imprisoned for their crimes and those that were sent to fight in the pits." Vidari spoke with no distaste, no hatred, as if she had come to accept that part of her fate. Or was now merely indifferent to it; that it had hardened her.

Those of noble blood fought in tournaments, at child's play. For the right to gloat. Fighting in the pits meant one fought for their life. No two were the same, every village or lord having a variation. Some were crudely dug from the earth, others stood above the ground, held within small arenas. All had their own secrets. Walls that fell away to reveal rows of spikes. Or bars in their place, with eager men standing behind, blades ready to strike if one strayed too close. It was vile and heinous, but such a place was the only choice.

The pits were the only way to receive training without being discovered. There was no way for Aramil to earn such a fate. Lords and their families were immune to the laws. It was all so simple, for Vidari to find herself a slave.

"He told me to steal from him. To let myself be caught," she continued speaking. Aramil said nothing, a self-disgust growing in his eyes. He would not speak of Vidari's times in the pits. The memories were beastly already with no need to be brought forth with his words.

The pits were the perfect place to breed an army. Full of those that had fallen as low as was possible. That had nothing but death awaiting them. If you knew you were a dead man, you fought with a passion to avenge yourself. Something that few could stand against.

"If there was one thing that persisted through Mirdruk's reign, it was the blood that spilled in the pits, found in every town, village. Every lord had his own household of slaves; there was money to be made in our deaths and victories. Even the lowly man could earn his gold from our blood. And with the times being as they were, there was no shortage of hands to put blades in, to throw in the pits."

Father had not kept such slaves and so had no quarters to place Vidari in. She was sent to a castellan in favor of seeing Mirdruk removed from the throne. His family had long kept slaves for the pits. She found quarter and training behind his walls. Acceptance and regard were not found without trial.

Vidari set her bowl down, rubbing absentmindedly at her wrists.

It was not uncommon for women to be quartered for the pits. There were even some that took their moments in victory. But that was not the purpose for being marked for the pits. Victories were short relished.

"There were many women, sent to quarter for the pits. Within the first few days, many would take their own lives. It was a lesser pain, lasting shorter, than what awaited them under cover of dark." Vidari did not raise her eyes from the ground, wouldn't look to see the grimness set on the faces of them. None dared to look at her, not even Thorin who stood before her.

Aramil remembered, going with Father, to see Vidari at her first entrance to the pits. It was the only time they were ever able to lay eyes on her. She wore little to no armour and it was either too small or too large. Better protection came with time. He had seen the angry red marks dragged across her shoulders, the skin broken. The dark and sickly colored bruises that drifted over her thighs. The pits were filled once every week and every week Aramil waited for the crow carrying the message of her death. The birds carried word only of her victory. That first time he had seen her fight, seen her take a life, it filled him with dread. She spent over a year in the pits and even after freed, she seldom smiled. Each time he saw her, he saw a darkness growing stronger in Vidari's eyes until all light was gone from them, filled only with dullness.

"It stopped when I kept waking in the mornings." After her first victory, the men _congratulated_ her. After her tenth, they watched her. Her twentieth, they began calling her the Raven. A bringer of death. The ink in her skin accounted for her victories; told of her story in a code only known by those in the pits.

Dawlin grunted from where he sat, shaking his head, a cruel look on his face. "How were you freed?" he asked, having no wish to hear more of these pits. He felt there would be more comfort found amongst a hoard of orcs.

"It was agreed, by all the lords in the region, to _fall_ to their slaves." Vidari could still remember every moment of the night when they were freed. Their lord had not locked the doors to their quarters. He allowed no one to leave the village, pulled those apart that would not stand against the king. Had them killed. Birds were sent to the other lords. One by one, the villages _fell_. And were united. It did not take long for word to spread that the south had been taken by slaves. And just as had been planned, the armies were sent expecting chaos. Instead they found a rallied anger.

The Dwarves wondered how Vidari had come to lead so many.

"The entire kingdom knew of her. The Raven. No one could deny her their reverence," answered Armail, his eyes hard as he looked over them. "By the time of the rebellion, she had beaten over three hundred opponents." Her story was not her own; there were many that had treaded the same paths as her, only she was still alive. She had fallen from grace, like so many, but found a way to rise. It was all a farce; she'd willingly fallen. But the people did not need to know that. They had what they needed, someone to lead them. Because she had risen above all the others that had willingly gone into the pits and survived, it was her story that was spread, her legend that grew.

"We kept to the south, and waited for the armies to come." As they waited, rebellions rose throughout the kingdom and the people came to her. "Father knew it would happen, the people coming to me." Whether the rebellion of the slaves was a true act or purposely orchestrated, no one could control the tales that would spread. "They said I took the castle on my own. That I slid right under the doors to our quarters." Spread wings and flew right through the bars. She shared the lord's bed and in the night slit his throat. Killed every man that had ever earned coin off her victories. The truth and lies didn't matter; either way, the people looked to her as their sword. "We had started a rebellion and everyone looked to me." Vidari frowned. "They looked to me to lead them." She stood at the head of the people, all the while with Father behind her, whispering in her ear. Aramil, to her right. "I did what had to be done. A leader was needed, for the time being."

She recalled the first battle she'd even been part of, when a lord from the west rode out to meet them. She sniggered and guided her eyes to the earth just before Aramil. "Do you remember Lyki?" A small smile came to his lips as he listened to Vidari speak of their old friend. "He was, this giant of a man. A blacksmith. Was so proud of his armour, made it all himself. Carried this beast of a longsword." Was taller than she was from tip to pommel. "He fought just as madly as us pit scum did. Roaring and laughing while hacking through the enemy. And his helmet." Aramil's smile grew slightly and Vidari shook her head. "It was this absurd thing." Blades of sharpened steel ran from front to back. Lyki enjoyed slamming his head into the enemy, cutting them open. If his face wasn't soaked with blood, he wasn't content. "The battle lasted under an hour. None of the enemy survived. We returned to the camp that had been set up outside the nearest village. Ready to prepare for the next army to come."

They had won, their first battle against the enemy and they had won. A good omen as it were. "We were filled with glory. Pride. We'd won. We were giants that day." Vidari smiled faintly, shifting her feet before her. "Lyki wanted to just ride off and surprise the next lord that tried to cut us down. Boasting of the fools he'd taken down that day. We all mocked his helmet." She tapped her head. One of the blades had been broken off. But Lyki had said he'd have it mended before the next battle, laughing along with them. Vidari's smile faded and a grim façade took her face; Aramil's grew dark. "He pulled the helm from his head. He kept talking, but, his words were slowed, confused. We looked down and saw part of his skull at his feet. The blade hadn't been broken." It was shoved right through into his head. It was his own blood that had run down his face. It was a few seconds more before he fell and stopped trying to speak. Then he died.

"That was when it truly set in for me," Vidari told them. "What we did was for the good of the kingdom. But that did not mean it was glorious." There was a dark venom in her voice. Disgust and regret for what she had seen. "Green boys, grown men, pissing and shitting themselves in their last moments while their chests are caved in, fighting for that last breath. That is not glory. It's war."

It took almost three years for the entire kingdom to kneel to Vidari and her army. The last to fall was the capital. The king's own castle. He holed himself up behind his walls until not even his own men would stand and fight. They met with no resistance as they entered the city gates. Mirdruk's own guard led Vidari to where he hid. In the armoury. He was mad, speaking nonsense. When he made an attempt to rush Vidari, Aramil came forward, driving his sword into the king's gut. They watched as he bled out and when he was finally dead, gave his corpse to the masses. His body was quartered and sent to the four corners of the kingdom.

"And then I became queen. No one else wanted the crown. _I _didn't want it." She'd done her part, helped her people. "But there was no refusing. I had my chance, I could have died with my mother and none of this would have come to pass." The need of the people was greater though. Vidari scanned over the Dwarves, her eyes lingering on Thorin. "Nothing I ever did was for the crown. I never wanted that weight. What I did, what I survived, was for the people." Vidari bit back the small distaste in her mouth. "It was never enough, but I always tried. Because no one else would."

None spoke to her the rest of the evening. She felt their eyes peeling over her through the night, the ink covering her burning with each glance. Night watches were set; she was not given one. She lied next to Aramil on the ground, their bedrolls set out next to each other. Others in the company were still up, sitting around and smoking or going through their packs. Vidari turned her head, looking to Aramil, seeing the kind smile he gave her. A shadow fell over her and she looked straight up, seeing Ori standing there. His hands held before him. She could see how he fought to keep the brightness in his eyes and his smile.

"Goodnight, Vidari," he told her.

"Goodnight, Ori," she responded.

The others in the company found sleep except for her. She lied there on her back, staring at the stars that moved above her. She had never looked at them before so intently. Vidari could not recall if she'd ever seen any up there now before. She turned her head to the left, seeing Thorin's empty bedroll beside Fili and Kili. He'd gotten up for a watch. Knowing it was pointless to just lie there, Vidari rose and crept her way over to the Dwarf, pulling her coat about her.

She came and stood a step behind him where he rested against a large rock, looking out over the way they had come. His arms crossed. He met her gaze for only a moment. Thorin had sought to find fault in her past, to find some leverage for turning her away. All he found was the truth in Lord Elrond's words of similar pasts. Leadership had been thrust upon them, with no choice to turn away, lest they see their people crumble further.

Did he pity what the woman had faced in her time? Yes. She had his sympathy, but that did not earn her his trust as well. None earned it so easily. Life as a pauper prince, now pauper king, had hardened him.

"What is your agreement with the wizard?" he asked in a stern voice. He would know this one thing if he were to trust his back to her in the smallest bit.

Vidari stared down at her palm, peeling back the bandage. "It's a tricky thing, bloodletting. It took a great magic to put me in such a deep slumber." She knew the Dwarves lived for some 250 years. Her people, near 300. But the blood magic used on her, that kept her, she could feel it still lingering. "If I see this to the end, see you crowned, the Grey Wizard will see to it that I do not linger much longer."

Thorin's eyes betrayed him and widened. He watched her as she studied the sky. "You seek your own death?" She nodded.

"I would see this last thing done though." Her eyes returned to him. "Perhaps this is my second chance, to make things right. Why do you seek Erebor?"

The words were effortless to Thorin, he had thought and said them countless times. "To reclaim it for the heirs of Durin. To return my people to their home."

"But yet you've given them a new home, in the Blue Mountains." Thorin did not need to counter. "But it isn't Erebor. Not a true home." Vidari raised her head, her cheekbones stark in the night. "That is why I chose to follow. All that you have done, has been enough for your people, but still…there is that one more. One more thing you could do for them. Lord Elrond spoke truth. We share a common past. I pray yours that has yet to come to pass does not end the same as mine."

Thorin watched as she turned her back to him and returned to her bedroll, moving like a wraith amongst the sleeping company.

She moved like a bird of prey.

**So now the company knows Vidari's dark past. Not exactly all rainbows and sunshine. **

**Thanks to all who reviewed! You guys are great! And thanks for the faves and follows! **

**Next chapter will cover their trek to the mountains, so plenty of room for adding new things. Anything you guys want to see? Interaction between Vidari and particular members of the company? Now that they know her past, how do you think they'll react? **

**Will try to be back in a couple of days with the next chapter (: **


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